


The Kinder Side of Winter

by Jade_Dragoness



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Action/Adventure, Death of OCs, Gen, M/M, POV Johnny Marcone, Pre-Skin Game, Small Fandom Big Bang, Violence, non-graphic death of child, post-Cold Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Dragoness/pseuds/Jade_Dragoness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John Marcone got the signature of the CEO of Monoc Securities in order to become the first mortal free-holding lord he paid for it with something other than money: 3 favors. Now Vadderung is calling in a marker, giving John the choice of refusing or temporarily taking up the duties of the Winter King.</p><p>Spoilers: up to <i>Cold Days</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** Death of OCs, non-graphic death of child, violence, magical influence on personality.
> 
> Art by Errantry (Hecateae)  
> (zerdavulpes), including more which is not in the story so go look [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1478893), especially to pass on kudos!

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/JadeDragoness/media/dresdentitle.png.html)

For all that I have become used to the eldritch side of life after all these years since making the acquaintance of a particular wizard, it was still startling when a god walked into any of my buildings. Even a god that I was already in business with.

The arrival of Donar Vadderung, CEO of Monoc Securities, at my current base of operations was a noteworthy event for one singular reason. Mr. Vadderung never came to my places of business. Considering I was the client in our years-long arrangement, I was the one that came to him as needed. Or, as was far more often proved to be the case over the intervening years, Ms. Gard was the go-between when I needed additional security resources from Monoc. In the years since I first secured Ms. Gard's contract as my supernatural security specialist and source of information for the magical side of life, I've only come face to face with Donar Vadderung on three separate occasions. 

One such time was when I first learned of the depths of services provided by Monoc Securities and was vetted as a potential client, another was the time I negotiated to acquire the CEO's signature to become the only mortal free-holding lord in the Unseelie Accords and a third time was when I secured a contract for the exclusive rights to various of the Einherjar, Warriors of Valhalla, in order to continue the war against the Formor without having to seek out their services at every single outbreak of violence.

“Mr. Vadderung,” I said, suppressing a startled double-blink when the man strode through the door of my latest base (fortunately, opening it and not blasting it from the hinges as had been the case in the past when I dealt with magical intruders). As I got to my feet, I flickered my gaze over at Gard and saw a flash of surprise on her face which was quickly hidden to those who didn't know her well. At my side, Hendricks tensed until he forced himself to relax when I gave no indication that I perceived a threat in Vadderung.

“Mr. Marcone,” Vadderung rumbled out. “I would've called ahead but I'm afraid that time is of the essence.”

I didn't question how he managed to get past the front guards. Vadderung was a tall man, who radiated power of such magnitude, that even I, with my magically dulled non-wizardly senses, could feel the ponderous weight of it. It hovered in the room like a mountain poised to bury me, entombing me, should I make just one misstep to bring it crashing down. 

Around this man I was too aware of my vulnerabilities but I careful not to let my wariness show in my body language or vocal tone. Vadderung had come to onto my property uninvited. The rights accorded to me as the Baron of Chicago meant that I had full authority to decided how to address this incursion, whether violently or not. But considering the benefits derived from our current business arrangement I was inclined to remain a cordial – however unexpected – host. 

“Then we have business to discuss?” I asked politely. 

Vadderung's single visible ice blue eyes flashed at me with amusement. “I have a marker of yours that I am calling in.”

I stilled, resisted the urge to swallow nervously, and kept my reaction down to a slight nod. “Does this conversation need to be kept private?” I asked, too aware of the ratcheting tension in Hendricks' body. It was doubtful that he would leave even if I asked, and admittedly, I was reluctant to order him away. 

“They can remain.”

“I welcome you as a guest to my territory, Mr. Vadderung,” I nodded and gestured at Vadderung to sit at the plush leather chair in front of the desk. I deliberately took the seat next to him instead of returning to the chair behind the desk. The position of power it would have provided had I remain there was little more than an illusion with Vadderung. And it was entirely too possible that such a tactic would manage little but to irritate him at best and insult him at the worst. And the chance of it being a fatal insult was, unfortunately, all to real of a possibility when it came to supernatural entities. By choosing to sit next to Vadderung, I was showing my respect without seceding my own authority. I was after all on home ground. I may have owed him certain debts, but this position didn't make me servile or his servant. That being so there are certain courtesies that one has to keep in mind when dealing with a being from the supernatural side of reality. “Would you care for a drink?”

“Thank you, no.” Vadderung's mouth quirked at the corners for a second, just long enough to let me see the flash of white teeth. 

“Very well, you said time was of the essence?” I prompted as I leaned back into the chair. 

In response, Vadderung reached into his long, fur-lined gray leather coat. What he pulled from the inner pocket was hidden in his large fist until he put it down on the desk with care and delicacy as if it was spun from candy-floss.

There aren't many objects that I regard with any sort of attachment as sentiment was a weakness in my line of work, but there had been a rare few items which I have held onto over the years. Those things that I have kept have extraordinary memories attached to them. Vadderung had settled down one such object onto my heavy oak desk.

It was a rather innocuous lump of dark lead, flatted and ugly. It was only barely recognizable as a spent bullet. Such an object would have been of little interest to most people unless they were in law enforcement or a criminal responsible for shooting the bullet in the first place. Neither of which applied to me. Instead, this object was significant to me for one reason, because that bullet had once been meant for me and had instead destroyed the life of a little girl, shattering an innocent family beyond repair. 

The bullet was a reminder of what I would _never_ allow to happen again in my city, even if it took every drop of blood in my veins, or the lives of others I had to put into the ground to ensure peace. It had been the bullet which had changed the course of a my life as thoroughly as it could have ended it.

I wanted it back in my possession. 

I glanced at the bullet for only a moment before looking back toward Vadderung, ignoring my own impulse to wrap my hand the marker. Instead, I asked in an even tone, “What is the favor?”

“You accept that this marker is yours and that is was one of three which you traded to me, and is now one of two which remain in my keeping? That by accepting the marker back into your possession you will be bound to fulfill the task I assign you?” Vadderung asked instead of answering.

In response, I barely kept from narrowing my eyes. When I had negotiated for Vadderung's signature in order to become a free-holding lord under the Unseelie Accords I had been careful to stipulate that whatever 'favor' that Vadderung needed from me, I had to first hear the details and then I had full rights as to whether I would accept or not, without facing any consequences for my refusal on myself or those in my freehold.

“This is my marker, but I don't accept it, not until I hear all the details of what you want me to do,” I said coolly. 

“The summer solstice is approaching,” Vadderung said, apropos of nothing. “It's a time when the balance of power among the Courts of the Sidhe shifts from Summer to Winter.”

“So I've been briefed.”

“At least, it is so in the Northern Hemisphere,” Vadderung continued, a flash of approval in his eye. “In the Southern hemisphere of Earth the reverse is happening.”

I had wondered in the past about how the shift of power among the Sidhe courts worked in the Southern continents. It was a thoroughly Western centric conceit that the balance of power between the Winter and Summer courts waxed and waned with the solstices of the Northern Hemisphere. Logically the change in power dynamics should have taken the whole of the world into account, but that wasn't the case. Since I learned about how the power of the Fae courts worked I had yet to find a satisfactory answer for the skewed power distribution. That the Kings provided the possible balance in the Southern Hemisphere was new information. This meeting, however unexpected, was already proving beneficial.

“It is then that the Kings of Summer and Winter have their duties, but this year the Winter King will not be able to ride. He is needed on another battleground.”

Gard inhaled, a soft sound that would normally have been inaudible had I not been hyper-aware of any reaction from my consultant on magical matters. I flickered my eyes over to her in time to see her hide her worry away under a nearly expressionless mask, but I had had her at my side for too long not to see the deepening around the lines of her mouth, or the tension which gathered around the muscles of her eyes. 

There must be great significance behind the Kings of the Court riding, or not being able to ride, otherwise Ms. Gard wouldn't have reacted so strongly. This was a woman who went to war against monsters and did so with fierce joy. She didn't flinch or hesitate when facing danger. She barely reacted when dealing with death. Her reaction at Vadderung's words was telling.

“And I take it that this information is relevant to the favor you are calling in?” I asked. “Are you passing my debt to the Winter King?” I restrained my growing irritation at the idea. It had never been addressed in the contract with him whether or not the markers could be passed on to another. This was an oversight I _would_ remember in the future.

“For a price, of course.” Vadderung's flash of grin had no humor in it and faded away as quickly as it had appeared. “The task is this: for three sunrises and sunsets, you are to wield part of the power of the Winter King and fulfill his duties, whereupon the mantle's power will dissolve on the fourth dawn and the borrowed power of the Winter King returns to its rightful bearer.”

I stared, taken aback. It took a long moment to considered everything I knew about the powerful fae who was the Winter King, a ruler of wyldfae, and most popularly known throughout the world by the name of Santa Claus. But I doubted that even the briefing provided by Ms. Gard managed to cover every possible aspect of that fae. For one, considering the current and rather liquid state of the North Pole, I was highly doubtful there was a toy workshop there. There was bound to be more to the King of the Winter Court than what was being spread by current popular culture. 

With all this in mind, I asked warily, “What exactly would these duties entail?”

*-*-*-*

Renting out an entire ice rink in the middle of summer is difficult, but fortunately it was not an impossible task to accomplish. It was made feasible by Chicago's only existing all-year ice rink, McFetridge Indoor Ice Skating Rink. The owners were willing to close the entire sport center to its early morning regulars, to allow my associates and I to have sole access before dawn began, accepting a week's profits in the place of losing a full day's worth of business.

The meeting time with two envoys of the Court of the Winter Sidhe was scheduled to take place ten minutes before the dawn broke at 5:15 A.M. The night had been spent securing the rink and establishing a perimeter, making certain that no bystander managed to stumble at an inconvenient moment. Currently, I stood on the red center line of the ice rink, with Hendricks at my right and Gard at my left, as we waited for the envoys to arrive. 

As Vadderung had explained beforehand, the envoys would be delivering a magical conduit to connect me to the mantle of the Winter King. A necessary step so that I didn't end up a permanent bearer. The Winter King was willing to let me carry facsimile of the mantle but not the true source of power. The connection spell needed to take place in Chicago as it was my territory and, as Gard had explained it, the city's mystical energies were necessary to help anchor the magic to me.

As I wasn't certain of what being a mantle bearer entailed so I was more than willing to accept whatever object granted me temporary powers of the Winter King as being necessary. And considering my lack of insider knowledge in dealing with Winter Sidhe and Winter fae, I would be assigned a member of the Court to provide assistance. Not that I thought it necessary and I greatly disliked the thought of having a stranger at my side in a fight but Vadderung had said that there were no other options. The Winter Court would not allow their power to be granted to a mortal, however temporary, without another member of the Court along to ensure that the power was returned, even though there was little I could do to keep it. The identities of both envoys hadn't been revealed to me, leaving me to prepare for any potentially explosive interaction for whomever would be arriving at the ice rink. 

Just because I was essentially providing a service for the Winter Court (and acting toward canceling a debt at the same time) it didn't mean that there couldn't be an attack. Winter was notoriously violent and cruel, and at no time had my safety been guaranteed. A lack which had been rather telling and had led me to increase the usual rounds of ammunition I carried in preparation of this meeting.

So I was standing in a long overcoat with my usual handgun tucked into a shoulder holster which was loaded with highly illegal steel-jacketed rounds and I also carried several knives for close quarters combat. Hendricks was carrying an assault rifle loaded with more steel rounds, as well as a handgun in a hip-holster and a steel longsword at his back. Ms. Gard had both her favored weapons, the battle ax covered in rune spells and also an assault rifle was slung from a strap over her shoulder. We all wore ballistic tactical vests. The only acquiescence we'd given to the supposedly friendly, or at least neutral, nature of the meeting was that we kept our hands clear and our weapons in their holsters. 

Exactly at 5:05 AM, a slight breeze began to blow through the enclosed ice rink, carrying with it the sharp clean scent of falling snow, reminding me strongly of seeing the white flakes falling from a night sky.

They were coming.

Before us appeared a bright pinprick light which glowed glacier blue as it hovered in midair over five feet above the ice. The light quickly expanded into a ring, widening into a perfect circle until it spanned to around ten feet in diameter. An icy gust blasted through the portal into the NeverNever, lashing at my bare cheeks and numbing my nose. Next to me, Hendricks hissed and looked away. I had to raise my forearm to protect my eyes until the wind faded away and I lowered my arm again.

A handful of seconds later, the Winter Court envoys stepped through the portal, walking onto the ice without slipping or sliding on the freshly Zambonied surface.

My breath caught for a second before I forced myself to inhale, trying to hide my visceral reaction at the first sight I'd had of Harry Dresden in over two years; I don't know how well I succeeded. I had known the wizard had been alive since the events of last Halloween night as several sources had verified seeing him. And my people had managed to retrieve static filled surveillance video from the marina where Thomas Raith kept his ship, the Water Beetle, that had showed Harry clearly enough to identify him. Yet seeing Harry in person had an unexpected impact on my emotional stability and it took far longer than I would like to reestablish my usual veneer of calm. Yet once I trusted that my reactions were under control, I studied him with care.

Harry had always been thinner than a man his height should be to be considered healthy, but now it was as if any lingering softness he had retained over the last decade had been pared down to tough sinew, corded muscle and bone. The black leather coat Harry wore did little to hide how thin he had become. He reminded me of a lone wolf on the edge of starvation, without any fear or caution as both had been hollowed out of the wolf by his overwhelming hunger. Adding to the parallels was the feral light in Harry's dark brown eyes, which grew stronger as he glanced at Gard, Hendricks and me. The dangerous look in his face made my guards tense up.

His expression made unease prickle uncomfortably down my spine. I became greatly aware of the short distance between us and the disadvantage we all had in wearing shoes, even with rubber soles, on fresh ice. Running would not be an option.

But I didn't signal an attack to the specialists waiting with sniper rifles just out of sight.

Briefly, Harry smirked in a brief flash of white teeth, leaning against his wizard staff in amusement at our reactions before he seemed to realize I wasn't here solely for his own entertainment. He frowned at me and turned to face his companion, with a questioning look on his face. I saw understanding strike him before he said a word aloud.

The Sidhe woman who had come through the portal with him was nearly as tall as Harry. She had copper-curls cascading down her back and the usual cat-slitted eyes of her kind. Surprisingly, I recognized her from sketches provided in a briefing I'd had on top tier Sidhe. She was called the Leanansidhe. So the envoys were the Winter Knight and the highest-ranked Sidhe in the Winter Court who wasn't one of the Queens. 

Well, I certainly couldn't claim that I had been insulted by the choice of envoys. If anything I was feeling rather wary that I had warranted such a high honor, and I pondered at the message implied. I didn't doubt that there was message inherent in the choices. Every source of information about the fae Courts been clear about the subtly of all the Sidhe and the Queens were the grandmasters of the game. Subtly was not something I ran into all that often with opponents in my line of business and I tried to not to let my unease show. The truth would reveal itself given time. 

“You've got to kidding me!” Harry said to the Leanansidhe. He furrowed his eyebrows, scowled deeply and snarled out, “I'm not doing it! No way! Pick someone else.”

The Leanansidhe didn't even look to him as she stepped closer to me. She dipped her knees in a shallow curtsy, without moving her cat-like golden eyes from me. She didn't blink as she observed me with intense focus. “Baron Marcone, I am pleased to be making your acquaintance.”

I bowed back, careful to not dip lower than she had, keeping us on an even footing. I was not part of her court, implying that I was subservient in any way would be a mistake. A deadly one, I didn't doubt. “Likewise.” As I straightened I glanced over to the glowering wizard. “Mr. Dresden.”

The fury which grew in his face was rather similar to how dark clouds built up into a thunderstorm, both were powerful, dangerous yet also beautiful to those who knew how to appreciate them. It was an expression which made both Gard and Hendricks focus solely on him. Unflinchingly, I met Harry's dark eyes. For an instant, I could see the roiling feral light take over until the wizard forcibly reigned it in. He broke our gaze to look away, his bare hand clenched and unclenched at his side while the one holding the staff went white under the force of his grip. I could practically hear his teeth grinding, as his jaw went tight with his barely controlled emotions.

I watched him for a moment until I was certain he would retain control of himself then I shifted my gaze back to the Leanansidhe, who wore a miniscule amused smile on her painted crimson lips. Instantly, I was on guard because she was looking at _me_ with that expression. She didn't say a word as she reached for the silver chain around her neck, lifting it up and over her head. 

On the end of the long chain glittered a white gemstone in the shape of a snowflake which was about the size of my fist. At least, at first glance it appeared to be merely a snowflake. Yet the center shifted with the reflections of ice rink's bright halogen lights, showing a subtly different designs between one eye blink and the next. 

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/JadeDragoness/media/totem.png.html)

At one point I thought I saw a pair of eyes gazing back at me. 

“Baron Marcone, step forth,” the Leanansidhe intoned with the ringing power of a newly rung church bell. 

“I think this is a bad idea,” Harry muttered, eying me. “Marcone is the last person I'd be pick to represent the Winter King. He's not exactly what I would consider Santa Claus material.”

It was an objection which I actually agreed with, but my distaste at holding the title of Santa Claus, however temporary, was purely an emotional matter. I was a professional monster. I wouldn't want children to be anywhere near me. But, as I had been reminded on more than one occasion, this was a job which required doing and I had a debt which needed to be paid off. 

The moment I had reclaimed the spent bullet, the marker of my debt to Vadderung, my choice to decline was unavailable.

“Your objection has been noted, Knight,” the Leanansidhe responded, her tone dismissive. “If you would, hold out your hand, Baron Marcone,” she said to me.

Wary and aware of the alertness of Gard and Hendricks, I held out my hand, tugging off the thin leather glove which had kept the cold from slowing down my reflexes. The snowflake-gem settled into the cup of my palm, fitting perfectly, as if it had been shaped with me in mind. As I studied it, the center of the snowflake shifted again so that the geometric pattern became the face of a muscle-bound boar with tusks like razors. It looked up at me and grunted soundlessly. I blinked and the image dissolved back into geometric patterns and sparking light.

“Daybreak begins in ten seconds,” Gard said behind me.

I pulled the necklace over my head, settling the snowflake against my chest. I had agreed to accept this conduit of the Winter King's mantle before the sun rose. I was out of time to ponder the consequences of my choice or simply to think. The Leanansidhe's eyes glittered with some emotion that I couldn't figure out. Ms. Gard counted down the seconds in a low voice.

All the supernaturally inclined rose their chins slightly, as if they had heard or sensed a difference in the air.

For a second nothing happened. Then the snowflake glowed, not with the blue-white light of winter as I had expected but with a golden glow which reminded me of fire, of the warm light given off by burning logs in a fireplace. The power tore through me like a runaway train, sinking into my mind with an unstoppable weight, and slipping past mental barriers I hadn't been aware existed until they had been breached and left trembling shakily in the aftermath.

I gasped and at once I reached for the gem to tear it off only to find the silver chain hanging empty.

“Boss?” Hendricks asked, urgently. Worried, he took a step closer to me even as he reflexively reached for the assault rifle.

I held up my right hand. I resisted the urge to rub at my chest or my temples. There was strange feeling of heat in my chest, right below my breastbone. It felt like I had swallowed a glowing hot coal and it had gotten caught there, and it was only fluke of circumstances which kept the coal from burning me out. There was also a feeling of intense pressure in my head, like something incredibly large had forced its way inside, but this feeling quickly faded, and between one eye blink and the next it was gone. Frankly, I was more disturbed by the bizarre impulse I was feeling to burst into laughter. It was a struggle to not give in. The feeling was like the irresistible as the prickle at the back of the throat which makes a person cough. I swallowed down hard and tried to shunt the urge away by choosing instead to focus my attention on the dangerous Sidhe noble in front of me. 

The Leanansidhe eyed me like I was a particularly interesting microbe under her microscope and she was fascinated to see what I would do next. Her attention worked like a bucket of cold water, quickly killing my urge to laugh.

“I'm fine,” I managed, after a quick double-check. I stared back at the Leanansidhe with narrowed eyes. “An explanation of what would happen would have been courteous,” I said flatly.

The Leanansidhe's smile widened, looking satisfied by whatever she saw in me. I resisted the impulse to go for my gun. “Yes... it would have been.”

Derisively, Harry snorted. “Right. How are you feeling, scumbag?”

Before I could say a word the Leanansidhe spun rapidly towards Harry, fury blazing on her face. “Knight! You will show respect! Baron Marcone is the King of Winter, however temporary. He outranks you!”

Disbelief crossed Harry's face. “You can't be serious! He's no Kringle.”

“For the next 72 hours, while on the mortal plane, he _is_ the Winter King. His rank is on par with Queen Mab. You will assist him in the fulfillment of his duties, staying by his side to provide necessary knowledge and protection as necessary until the fourth sunrise dawns upon the Baron's demesne. These are Mab's orders.”

Harry looked at me for a long moment and then back to the Leanansidhe. “Okay. Fine,” he said, grudgingly. He scowled darkly back at me.

The urge to laugh returned, doubling in my chest as if the mirth was a living thing wanting to burst forth. I held it in, ignoring the unfortunate implications of chest busters. I had after all absorbed energy which was alien to me, well... that was a chilling thought. I kept in a shiver of unease.

The Leanansidhe turned back to me. “As the King of Winter your duties begin at once, Baron Marcone,” she said, as she held up her slim hands, her nails flashing from the sapphire-toned nail polish. She snapped her fingers three times. “I will dress you in the king's vestments and call forth the king's chariot to carry you and your cohort.”

I flickered my gaze to Gard, who didn't give me any indication she thought it would be dangerous to allow this. “Very well,” I said, watching the Leanansidhe approach me. “Yet do not change my body armor, weapons or ammunition.”

“Agreed.”

“A chariot,” Harry sighed. “Stars and stones, at least tell me it's pulled by eight tiny reindeer.”


	2. Chapter 2

I pulled on the reins firmly and the large animals which drove forward the Winter King's chariot huffed and snorted in irritation at the tug but they obeyed my implied order and swiftly turned left. The king's vestments, which the Leanansidhe had created out of my transfigured overcoat, turned out to be a long red fur-coat which was lined with ermine and reached down to the top of my combat boots. She had also given me another important article in fulfilling my temporary duties: the Winter King's sword. It didn't look particularly impressive as it was a plain broadsword in a black leather scabbard and held in place by wide leather belt but I felt different with it resting on my hip. 

I felt complete.

I wore the fur coat because the Leanansidhe had insisted it was traditional. I wasn't feeling the cold so I suspected the coat's importance was solely due to the iconic imagery built in current pop culture. Immunity to low temperatures was one of the powers of the Winter King's mantle. Another was knowing exactly the path I had to follow, although I couldn't name the destination. I just knew that I was getting closer.

“I feel like all those Christmas movies have lied to me,” Harry complained, where he stood beside me on the chariot. “First no workshop, then no big red bag stuffed full of presents or sleigh, and now no tiny reindeer. What's next? No 'Naughty or Nice' list?”

“At least they do fly, even if they aren't reindeer,” I said. We were currently somewhere in the skies of Chile, in South America. The jagged mountains of the Andes stretched out below the chariot, completely filling my sight from horizon to horizon as if it was a mountain range which spanned the world. It was an impressive sight to see, especially considering we weren't in an airplane.

“They are Irish Elk,” Gard said. She and Hendricks sat behind us, in a bench which Hendricks had explained was meant to hold standing archers. Their location at our back was something which made Harry twitch whenever one of them spoke and reminded him of their presence. Surprisingly, he didn't seem to mind standing at my side, although he made a point of leaving as much of a gap between us as possible in the chariot. Since the Leanansidhe had departed, I'd thought I would be getting more juvenile epithets from him but over the last hour Harry had remained remarkably civil.

It was disconcerting, although a small part of me was rather pleased. I would enjoy the lack of insults while it lasted. I doubted it would ever happen again.

“Irish Elk were thought to have gone extinct over 16,000 years ago,” Gard continued.

“How do you know that?” Harry demanded, turning to look at her.

I turned by head just enough to catch a flicker of a smile on Gard's face. “I know hunters who bemoan the fact they can no longer hunt them,” she said amused. Beside her Hendricks was barely visible wrapped as he was in his winter coat and covered in knitwear from head to toe. His face was masked by a balaclava and a thick, gray woolen scarf. I arched my eyebrows in quiet inquiry. Hendricks grunted to let me know that he was alright. Of the four of us, he was the one most sensitive to the cold of the high altitudes as well as the wind chill, something I would have to keep in mind over the next 71 hours. Even though the chariot had a magical field – according to Gard – which reduced the effects of being up so high, it had never been intended to carry normal humans. So Hendricks had to deal with the sharp drop in temperature by bundling up. 

It was one of those things which I hadn't been warned about. And I couldn't help but think about what other possibilities could exist which we hadn't thought to accounted for and a list developed in my mind with little to distract me as we crossed the skies from Chicago to the South Hemisphere. But ultimately, like the chill of high altitudes, there was little I could do about it and at least we had prepared as much as we could be for the next three days. And more importantly, I trusted Hendricks to let me know if he was reaching his limits and for Gard to let me know of her concerns.

I pulled my attention back to the reins where four Irish Elk continued to plunge forward. 

One of the elk snorted, the timing making me think that it had to be in reaction to Gard's words and I contemplated the level of intelligence of magical animals, or possibly those of sentient beings in animal shape. The information I had gleaned about the Wild Hunt and its connection to both the Kings of Winter and Summer had been updated since last Halloween. Considering my current circumstances the detail of humans being taken to be the hounds of the Wild Hunt seemed particularly relevant. After all, where did one find extinct elk? It was something to keep in mind, although it currently made no difference to my actions.

Regardless of their origins, the elk were impressive creatures. At the shoulder they were taller than Harry and each had a span of antlers which were easily over 10 feet in length. They treated the massive chariot, which was made out of red enameled wood and adorned with several hundred pounds of silver inlay as well four large silver spoke wheels, like the chariot was little more than a flimsy toy. The chariot had to weigh in at over two tons and that was before we all climbed into it. The only reason the Winter King's mode of transportation couldn't quite be called a wagon was because there were clearly spaces where weapons were meant to go, like spears, or places where archers were meant to stand, like the back bench. You couldn't look at it and think that it was meant to be a beast of burden. It was a war tool; an ancient war machine.

Beside me, Harry jerked away as he realized he was standing close enough to brush against the sleeve of the fur coat. I ignored his reaction. He had been unintentionally leaning close to me whenever he was distracted only to realize what he was doing and instantly widen the distance between us.

The feeling which I had been following, like a hook tugging within my chest where the Winter King's power lay, suddenly became assertive and fierce. I pulled at the reins again. At once the elk began descending from the sky. The animals slowed down their pace but didn't touch the ground. Instead, their hooves struck the air just inches above the snow covered ground where their hoof strikes created a noise akin to rolling thunder. This close to the ground I was very aware at the incredible speed at which we were traveling, as nearby rock formations and fallow fields blurred by.

We could have easily outstripped a F1 race car. And the elk weren't even straining themselves.

Gard leaned over my shoulder and pointed exactly in the direction where I felt I needed to go. “There!”

I yanked on the reins and the elk slowed down so quickly that the silver wheels spun wildly and started to glow red even before the chariot touched the earth. It had to be magic at work when we weren't abruptly thrown clear. Harry was out of the chariot and running off before we came to a complete stop. Without missing a beat, Gard followed him. I dropped the reins, confident that the elk wouldn't move without my instruction. I also pulled out my handgun from its holster as I jumped out of the chariot. I left the sword in its scabbard because, considering my novice ability at swordplay, I preferred a weapon I was vastly more comfortable wielding. Especially when I didn't know what I would be facing.

Hendricks, for all his layers of clothing, followed swiftly after me and was soon keeping pace at my left side. His hands were sure around the stock and grip of the assault rifle. He also still had his sword, strapped to his back and hidden under his coat.

Upon catching up with Harry and Gard, I saw seven human corpses on the rocky, icy ground. It looked like bites had been taken from the bodies, pre- or post-mortem I could not tell without closer examination. Most of the corpses had limbs ending in abrupt stumps, or large gaps missing from their torsos which reminded me of strongly of images I've seen of shark bites, wide and with multiple serrations left in the flesh. The bodies were surrounded by pools of blood which were still releasing curling white condensation into the cold air. 

The men and women had died recently and they had died ugly, but this wasn't where I _needed_ to be. The power of the Winter King's mantle yanked me onwards. 

Gard and Harry were studying the bodies as I ran past them. “Follow me,” I ordered, following the pull, which was growing even stronger. I would almost call it frantic in its urgency. I would have been worried at how much of my actions seemed to be under control of the mantle, if they hadn't felt so utterly _right._ Later, I would think about it later. Now, I was running out of time.

“Wait, where are you doing?” Harry called. I was too focused on my task to answer.

Gard quickly caught up to Hendricks, before splitting from his side to cover my right. Harry managed to reach us a couple of seconds later, his long legs moving with certainty over the icy ground. We passed a series of houses made of wood, stone and thatch. The doors gaped open, more bodies were sprawled over thresholds, as if they had attempted to reach the safety of their homes but were too late. 

Gard spat out a vicious curse. 

“Hells bells,” Harry snarled behind me. I could practically feel the air crackle with his magic as his anger burned even higher at the sight of the new bodies.

With a swift glace, I noted something which caught my eye with the first group of corpses. I could see men and women of various ages, but something important was missing. All the bodies were of adults.

Where were the children?

Gritting my teeth, I moved on. We ran for several minutes until the hints of humanity eking out a living on the rough terrain of the Andes diminished until it was only mountainside. That's when I smelled on the wind a sour odor which had nothing with the stink of death. It was something inhuman, like the smell of rotting meat, wet fur and burnt motor oil. 

I held up a fist, signaling silently for a halt. Hendricks and Gard dropped to a crouch when I did. Harry followed a belated second later and we looked over a large snowbank. In silence we all observed the scene before us.

About forty feet ahead of us lurched five large, muscle-bound white furred creatures, who would have topped 9 feet if their backs weren't hunched forward. They looked _wrong._ Their heads were looked too flat, and they had hands and feet which were overly sized for their bodies. Each of the creatures were dragging large, dirty burlap sacks as they followed a nearly invisible path up the mountainside. 

I could hear faint high-pitched sobs and whimpers. The sacks wiggled as small limbs struggled to get free to no avail. 

“Damn it, snow ogres,” Harry snarled, his voice low. He started to stand up until I grabbed him by right arm and yanked him back down before he gave away our position.

“Dresden, stop. You can't just attack. The children will be caught in the crossfire.” My own instincts were urging me forward with a pressure from the mantle which was difficult to ignore, but I knew that barging in would just result in casualties. Unacceptable casualties. “Calm down.”

Harry turned to face me. There was such rage in his eyes I was convinced that he would attack me. I dug my fingers into his arm, partially to immobilize him and partly so that the pain would snap him out of whatever madness he was lost in. Just as I intended to tighten my grip even further, the heat of power which had been resting in my chest since I'd taken temporary possession of the Winter King's mantle stirred and flooded outwards, surging down my arm and into Harry in a sudden bolt of energy. 

The bright anger in Harry's eyes snuffed out all at once, as if it had never been there to begin with.

Harry stared at me with his brown eyes wide in surprise. “What-- what was that?” he whispered.

Considering that I wasn't certain on how to answer I ignored the question and focused on more immediate matters. “The ogres outnumber us. What do you know about their weaknesses?” I asked quietly. 

Harry blinked and shook himself out of his stupor. “Fire. Fire is always good against ice beings. These guys have the usual fae weakness to cold iron,” Harry explained. “They're usually aligned with Winter and not terribly smart like a lot of ogres.” 

“Good, we have steel.” I nodded to Gard, who slipped off silently to circle closer to the monsters. Hendricks did the same in the other direction. 

I couldn't track their moments but I gave them a reasonable amount of time to get into position. “They're in place. Your turn, Mr. Dresden,” I said. 

Harry didn't hesitate and pulled out his blasting rod from its hiding place in his coat, so he was holding his wizard staff in his right and the rod in his left hand. Harry ran towards the snow ogres and when he was close enough, he thundered, “Pyrofuego!”

A blazing bolt of blue-white fire slammed into the biggest ogre's thick chest, making the fae rear back. The fire burned through the fae and come out through its back as if the barrel of white fur, muscle and bone had been little more than butter before a hot knife. The fire bolt struck another snow ogre, scoring a deep wound through its left right shoulder before it buried itself in a snowbank, releasing a cloud of steam. The stink of charred meat flooded my nose. 

The injured ogre screamed but before it could attack Gard leaped down from a rock, taking advantage of the unexpected steam cloud cover to come seemingly out nowhere. She swung her battle ax with a fierce cry of joy and cleaved the injured ogre's head from the fae's shoulders. Then Gard rammed her shoulder into the ogre, which had just begun falling, knocking it askew and keeping it from landing on the children.

Sackfuls of children dropped to the dirt. Shrill screams of fear filled the air.

On the other side of Hendricks opened up with his assault rifle. Sharp retorts, in series of three, echoed off the mountains. Blooms of blue-green fire erupted from the chest of two snow ogres as the steel-jacketed rounds made short of work of fae flesh. I was already engaging the remaining fae. With a handgun in my right hand and the sword in my left, I shot a between the ogre's eyes, even as I brought down the broadsword on the huge wrist of the paw holding the sackful of children. The sword didn't slow down at all it as cut through bone.

Blue-green fire burst from the snow ogre's skull and wrist. I grabbed the burlap sack, ignoring the burning hand which remained attached and dragged it away from the falling corpse of the fae. Around me, Gard, Hendricks and Harry were doing the same.

The crying and whimpering from the sacks were intolerable. I quickly holstered my weapons and ripped apart the burlap with bare hands. Three children, dark eyed and brown skinned, tumbled out. The oldest couldn't be more than 8 years old. The youngest was little more than a toddler. They looked up at me with wide tear-filled, terror stricken eyes, but before I could say a word, or step away so my presence wouldn't intimidate them further, the children surged towards me. 

Before I knew it, I was sitting on the snow covered ground with three sobbing children clinging to my chest as if their lives depended on holding on. 

*-*-*-*

“I wonder if it has got something to do with being the Winter King,” Harry murmured, as he observed me and the pile of kids who seemed to have decided that I was the safest place in the world for them. In total, the snow ogres had grabbed twelve children, the oldest of which was a girl of fourteen or fifteen. She was the only one not clinging to me, but she sat close enough so that her shoulder leaned firmly against my left arm.

I was thoroughly uncomfortable and not just because the energy of the Winter King's mantle was intent on flooding outwards from me to the children. As it didn't seem to do anything more dangerous than calming them down and soothing their fear so I didn't pull away from them. I was uncomfortable because I was out of my element. Due all my rules about not involving children in my business and regardless of the various charitable youth foundations which I donated sizable amounts to every years, I didn't often interact with minors. Most of them seemed to realize instinctively that I was not a 'nice' person and gave me a wide berth.

These children flinched away from everyone else except for me. Harry, especially, seemed to cause great alarm to his mounting frustration and distress. Even now he was observing us from a good ten feet away. It was the closest he could get before the children cried out in fear. Considering that Harry was radiating the body language of a predator and that feral light had returned to his eyes during the fight, I couldn't blame the children for their reaction. Harry even tossed an occasional look of lustful hunger at the teenage girl which made my fingers twitch for my gun as I keep a wary eye on on him. I _would_ shoot him if he made a move towards the girl.

I was surprised by his reaction. I _knew_ Harry Dresden, both from careful, detailed observation of the man over the last decade as well as the photographic memory I had of his soul. He had darkness in him, it was true enough, but it was not of that sort. And while death could change a man, I did not believe it to be so powerful as to change such a basic personality trait in a man like Harry Dresden. Such sickness would have shown itself long before now. I would have _seen_ it and killed him years ago.

Keeping my contemplation hidden, I responded to his statement in a low voice, “It does seem the most likely possibility.” 

A handful of the youngest children, no doubt stressed and tired, had fallen asleep while crowded around my lap. A young one of indeterminate gender clung to my neck, giving off soft snores which whispered against my ears and vibrated against my chest like the purring of a content cat.

Hendricks' mouth twitched with amusement at my situation every time I flicked my gaze over to him (he'd removed the balaclava to keep from frightening the children). I barely kept from glowering back at him. I understood his reaction, I was somewhat at a loss and doubtlessly Hendricks could read my reaction all over my body language. Harry seemed equally amused, smirking at me every time I forced myself to hold still when a child shifted around to find a more comfortable spot. I tried not to think of how pleasant it was to be so trusted. I also ignored the faint tug from the mantle to move because there was somewhere else I needed to be. It wasn't urgent.

Gard has left us to find a nearby safe village where we could leave the children. She returned within the hour, driving the chariot with her usual confidence and skill. All the elk pawed at the ground and snorted unhappily but obey her willingly enough. It was good to know they would accept another driver.

“Four adults are on their way here. They will arrive in less than ten minutes. We should leave,” she said bluntly, as she brought the chariot to an abrupt stop. The silver wheels gleamed bright, and the four Irish elk turned towards me with eerie synchronicity. A couple of the children made soft noises of delight and the teenage girl gasped in wonder. 

I looked over at Hendricks, who nodded, verifying that the area was secure of both supernatural and mundane threats. Even the bodies of the snow ogres had burned to ashes, leaving nothing behind. Hiding my regret, I stood up slowly, carefully shedding the children like water. I handed the small one in my arms to the teenage girl who took the toddler without hesitation, even as she looked up at me and said several words in a language I didn't understand. I didn't need to. Her desperation and fear was enough.

I hesitated before reaching into one of the pockets of my tac-vest, pulling a steel knife which was sharpened to a razor edge. I held it out, hilt first to the young woman. She took it with a trembling hand which firmed up after a second as her grip tightened. Gard strode over and spoke in the same language, no doubt telling the girl of the arriving adults.

I turned and walked away, heading for the chariot.

“You're just going to leave?” Harry asked, disbelief and anger. His hands were balled up in fists.

“We have done all we can for them,” I said coolly. The tug in my chest was growing more insistent by the minute. I wouldn't be able to ignore it much longer. “We have elsewhere we need to be.”

Harry's brown eyes flashed with anger and his face twisted. As I passed him, he grabbed my shoulder and he opened his mouth to say something. At the point of contact heat from the mantle's power flared and whatever Harry was about to say died silently.

I pulled away from him and climbed into the chariot, grabbing the reins in a fist as I waited for everyone to embark. Gard and Hendricks took their seats behind me, and Harry reluctantly stood at my side again. I whistled sharply and flicked the reins. The elk huffed and took off. They rose so quickly that any cries of amazement the children made at the sight of a flying chariot were lost to the mountain winds.

“You really should at least be saying: 'Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!'” Harry complained as the elk climbed the sky. His elbow knocked into my side for a moment. I could feel the power of the Winter King surge in me at the point of contact before Harry jerked back. I wanted to reach out and touch him. I tightened my hands on the reigns and ignored the old impulse.

“Feel free to do say it in my place,” I said dryly.

*-*-*-*

And so it went, on and on, for hours. We chased monsters, going from night to day to night again as we moved across timezones, although we mostly stayed in the night-side of the planet, unsurprisingly as monsters preferred to hunt in the dark. The chariot crisscrossed the Southern Hemisphere sending us from Australia to Brazil to Chile to Madagascar to Rwanda and Zimbabwe before we returned to Australia.

We fought everything from more fae, to low ranking fomor soldiers, to boogeymen of various types including two large Rawhead and Bloody Bones (after learning from how those monsters came to be I made a mental note to check up as to how my city's butcher shops were dealing with their discards of bone and blood). Always, I was drawn to places where monsters were harming, or about to harm, children. For 20 hours, we traveled around the planet to kill monsters and save the innocent, until the insistent tug at my core suddenly stopped as we flew over the Indian Ocean after a stop at Australia. 

I decided we needed to take advantage of the break, so I ordered the elk to the nearest bit of inhabited land. The elk took the chariot to Christmas Island. My laughter when I realized where we had landed (one of the powers of the mantle meant that I always had a general idea of where I was on Earth, which included the local name of the land) startled everyone including me.

“Well...” Harry said, breaking the stunned silence. “That was more 'ha ha ha' than 'ho ho ho' but it's a step in the right direction.”

“Oh my,” Gard whispered behind us. 

“Boss?” Hendricks asked concerned, as he rolled the balaclava up so it looked like a hat.

I ground my teeth together, trying to keep any more of the laughter in check. Amusement bubbled in my chest and it took too long for me to force it down.

“I'm fine,” I managed, after I could trust myself to talk. Outwardly, I was calm. Inwardly, I was worried. I was not a man prone to displays of uncontrolled emotion, even my anger was tightly leashed. I couldn't afford anything less than perfect control over my emotions and actions. To have burst out laughing over such a minor thing that had nothing to do with the rush of adrenaline after battle...

“It's the mantle.”

I turned sharply to face Harry. The setting sun was casting steep shadows on his face. I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean, Dresden?”

Harry looked away. Bitterly, he said, “They have nasty habit of changing the people who carry them.” He ran a hand through through his hair, the long ends curling and catching on his fingers. He grimaced as he ran into a gnarl created by a splash of red-brown blood; as their appellation described them the Rawhead and Bloody Bones had been particularly gory and with a tendency to explode as they died. “The mantles...they're like a computer virus or at least that's the closest analogy, I've got. Once they're in, the mantle begins to rewrite the bearer.”

I frowned. This was a very worrying piece of news. Suddenly, I had flash of understanding of the reason for Harry's tone. I wasn't the only one carrying a mantle of fae power, after all. Harry Dresden was the Winter Knight. I had been thoroughly briefed on the character of the previous Winter Knight, Lloyd Slate. Murderous, rapist, psychopath had been of a few of the many words used in describing the man. And if the mantle had been responsible for the man's behavior...well, it explained the new predatory air which Harry now displayed and why he would look at a teenage girl, who was barely out of childhood, with a flash of violent lust in his eyes.

It would also explain the new impulses I was feeling which were so out of character for me.

“I think that whoever was the first carrier of the mantle left a personality imprint on it. And ever since the mantle tries to change the person to fit that imprint.”

“Is it permanent?” Hendricks asked, as I absorbed the information.

“I don't know,” Harry said. He looked back to me. I could read the deep bleakness on his face, the barely held in devastation in his eyes. “I sure as hell hope not.”

“It doesn't matter,” I said flatly. “In 64 hours the mantle's power goes back to Kringle.” I had a task to do and a bargain to complete. Yet regardless of what I'd said, I was angry. Vadderung had not mentioned this possibility when he had informed me of the powers which I would hold as the temporary Winter King. I did not believe for one second that he hadn't fully aware of any side-effects. 

And Vadderung _hadn't_ warned me.

I forced my anger away, to use it for another day, but I wouldn't forget.

Hendricks' gave off a disapproving air. No doubt the multiple ways in which any lingering personality change could prove detrimental to the running of my business had occurred to him (as well as the all to real possibility of the way it could lead to a shortening of my lifespan), but this was not the time nor the place to discuss them. Anyway, I couldn't begin to prepare to compensate for any damage inflicted to my personality or emotional controls until after I learned if the changes to me would be permanent or temporary. 

“The next battle site could call us at any moment. We must take the time to rest while we can,” Gard said, ever practical.

Agreeing, I drove the chariot to a bare cliff facing the ocean. The area looked free of humanity for over a mile in every direction and there was enough cleared space so that we could see anyone arriving for 20 feet once they broke from the treeline. Mist hovered over the rolling vibrant green of tropical trees, shrubs, and grasses. I couldn't feel any chill in air but I could feel the moisture. It had rained recently, but the skies were clear so it wasn't likely we would be rained on.

As soon as the silver wheels stopped rolling, Gard and Hendricks stepped out. Hendricks carried over his shoulder a bulging Army surplus duffel bag packed with supplies. I grabbed my own duffel from the storage compartment at the tail-end of the chariot and followed after him. I had been warned that it would be unlikely we would be able to return to Chicago over the next three days, so we had prepared supplies with that limitation in mind. We had enough food and water bottles for a week, medical supplies, tents and sleeping bags, plenty of ammunition and back-up weapons.

We spread out at once to set up camp.

Yet I realized, as Gard carved a large protective circle into the soft ground with her ax as she muttered undecipherable words under her breath, that we had not factored a fourth person in our planning. I had thought that whomever the Queen of Winter would send as her envoy would be perfectly capable of taking care of their own needs. 

Harry had only arrived carrying only his wizard staff, and whatever he had in his leather coat other than the blasting rod.

I eyed Harry and considered the possible contents of his leather coat's deep pockets. I had seen the man pull out all manner of ridiculous and innocuous things out of them in the past but I doubted they carried food or drink. I bet that he hadn't even thought to bring potable water, although considering his new ice powers that may not necessarily be a problem for him. Still, it would not do to have him slowly dehydrate or grow faint from hunger, especially when I knew that using magic came with a heavy caloric cost.

“Dresden,” I called, and tossed him a bottle of water I'd fished out of my duffel.

Harry snatched it out of the air even before he had a chance to fully turned toward me. He was frowning until he realized what he had caught. He blinked and shot me a startled look which I ignored. He broke the seal and drank down half the bottle in one pull, his long throat exposed as he drank. I indulged in the sight of him, although it kept it from showing on my face.

“Thanks,” Harry said grudgingly, as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

I couldn't quite keep the corners of my lips from turning up at the sight of his disgruntled expression and for once my amusement had nothing to do with the mantle's power bubbling away in my chest. My juvenile pleasure was wholly my own.

Harry looked like he was giving serious consideration to throwing the plastic bottle at my head. I tossed him one of the protein bars, distracting him into catching it, before I turned my attention to pulling out my own water, hiding my widening smile.

*-*-*-*

I got a little over an hour of uneasy rest before I gave up trying to sleeping and got out of the sleeping bag. I should have been tired enough to sleep for a good solid 8 hours at the very least, considering all the combat I'd seen but I wasn't feeling the need for it at all. Instead it felt like that hour had taken care of my entire night's need for sleep. 

I got an acknowledging nod from Gard, who had volunteered first watch. Even without a source of direct light like a flashlight or a campfire I saw her remarkably well under the small amount of moonlight given off by crescent moon and the dim chemical lights outlining the camp's perimeter every few feet. The night-vision was yet another of the mantle's effects on me which I hadn't been informed about. I told Gard to get some rest. I might as well take over while she slept. Gard had set up her bedroll next to Hendricks and after she agreed to hand off her shift, she crawled into her sleeping bag. She looked to have fallen asleep within a few seconds.

I looked around, noting the quiet elk which stood waiting for us to continue our globe-trotting. They weren't eating any of the lush tropical vegetation which was another point in favor of them being more than animals. They also didn't seem to mind being left in their harnesses. I had not been instructed on care for the chariot and the animals which pulled it so I was happy enough to let them be. If Kringle was dissatisfied with the treatment of the elk then he could speak to Vadderung about it.

I sat in the same spot which Gard had vacated, a flat outcropping of gray limestone smoothed out by the weather enough to make a comfortable seat. The stone faced the treeline and as I wasn't particularly concerned with an attack coming up the 100 feet of cliff face it was the best location to keep an eye on our surroundings. It didn't take very long before Harry came over from the shadows where he had been lurking and joined me on the stone. I didn't say a word, choosing instead wait him out. 

“What you did before the first fight –”

“It wasn't intentional,” I said, cutting him off. 

“I _know,”_ Harry growled, annoyed. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. After a moment, he said, “It was the Winter Knight's mantle. I want to test it to see if it more than a fluke. I've shaken Kringle's hand once before and I didn't feel whatever it is you did. I need you to touch me.”

I arched up my eyebrows. 

“You now what I mean,” Harry snapped.

“Alright,” I said, after a moment. The thought of all kinds of touches which I could indulge in having been given permission went through my mind. The scars on his face especially caught my attention. I still wasn't quite used to them.

I held out my right hand for a handshake. 

Harry stared down at my hand like I was holding a live cobra. He grimaced but reached out, clasping my hand in a firm grip. Even before he finished tightening his grip the heat of the mantle's power stirred and flowed from my chest, down my arm, through my hand and into Harry. His hand tightened around mine even as he completely relaxed. His entire body language softened and the stiff tension which he had been carrying since meeting us at the ice rink faded away.

“Oh,” Harry said softly as his eyes drifted closed. Whatever effect he feeling, Harry was savoring it like it was expensive champagne.

I kept quiet, letting Harry hold my hand for several minutes. The power of the Winter King was sent continuous waves of power, bubbling away in my chest. I didn't realize I had started smiling until my amusement threatened to turn into laughter again. Startled by the nearly overwhelming urge, I jerked my hand away from Harry and at once the mantle's power draw subsided. The influence it was exerting on me also diminished and it was easier to flatten the corners of my lips.

Harry made to grab my hand back but aborted the gesture in mid-reach. He settled his right hand down on his knee with deliberate slowness. He muttered, “I thought so.”

“I would appreciate it, if you would explain what you mean by that, Mr. Dresden,” I said as coldly as I could manage. It was a struggle to maintain a poker face and an unaffected body language when I when I was nearly overcome with fierce joy, feeling the impulse to laugh, to sing, to enjoy the moment in an exuberant fashion. There was no battle and there was no danger, it was time to celebrate. I shuddered and forced down those boisterous urges. The feelings weren't real. They weren't me. I wasn't the person the mantle was trying to shape me into becoming. Once, I could have been, when I had lived without thinking of the consequences of my actions, but I'd made my choices about who and what I would become, would be, long ago. Now, control was paramount. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“The Kings are usually the polar opposite in temperate to the Courts they're aligned with,” Harry explained. “Where the Winter Fae are cold and cruel...”

“He is warm and kind,” I said. “I _was_ briefed on the Winter King.” Years ago, in fact, and then again before this mission.

Harry shot me an annoyed look. “But the question is 'why?'. If the Summer and Winter Courts balance each other, why are the kings also needed? Unless they bring something important to the courts.” His voice grew distant, as he said, “Hope on the longest night. Light in the darkness.” His fingers tapped rapidly on his knee until he abruptly stopped. He frowned at me. “How did you get involved in this anyway?”

“You're asking this now?”

“I haven't exactly had a chance to ask until now,” he snapped.

I sighed. “It was a favor.”

“You've never struck me as the kind of guy that does favors without getting anything in return. I'm not seeing the benefit to you here. And Winter would never let itself become indebted to another signatory.”

“I owed a favor,” I admitted grudgingly, after briefly considering the consequences of letting Harry know. It was moderate enough to risk.

“Who would _you_ owe a favor--” Harry cut himself off. And he made one of those highly intelligent, intuitive leaps which was one of his many talents which made him so damned dangerous to his enemies. It was impressive how he could put together sparse details to arrive to the right conclusion. It was a skill that very few have, but fitting in a man who was also a private investigator. “Vadderung,” Harry breathed out, surprised. Wide-eyed, he stared at me. He added with certainty, “For his signature.”

I didn't acknowledge or deny it. 

“I always thought you paid for it with money.”

I sighed. “Does the CEO of Monoc Securities strike you as the type of man who is bought by such petty things as legal tender?” I asked wryly. “I thought you were smarter than that, Mr Dresden.”

Harry shot me an angry look. He inhaled deeply and as he exhaled deliberately pressed his knee against the side of my leg, activating the mantle's power again. I barely controlled my flinch of surprise even as he relaxed as the power flowed.

“It helps me think more clearly,” Harry explained stiffly, as he looked away. He stared up at the unfamiliar star strewn sky of the Southern Hemisphere. I could practically hear the wheels spinning furiously in his head. He sat silently thinking for several minutes as I scanned our surroundings for any approaching danger, looking for a distraction, and not just because of the way the mantle's power was gaining strength within me again. I couldn't stop smiling yet sympathy kept me from breaking the touch.

I was too aware of the pressure of Harry' leg against mine. It took a stronger struggle than it should have for me to not to give in to the desire to press my hand against his knee and slid my palm up his inner thigh. Not for the first time, I was grateful that there was a White Council enforced law which forbade mortal magical practitioners from mind-reading. The man loathed me enough as it was without me giving him more cause. Not that I thought he was homophobic due to the rumors of his relationship with Thomas Raith, although I was never able to get solid confirmation. That relationship seemed proof enough that it wouldn't be the case. Assuming of course, that there was something substantive to the rumors. No, I was certain any negative reaction would be based solely on _who_ I was.

“You know, the reason I first started looking into who'd taken you when the Denarians grabbed you was because Mab asked me to do it,” Harry said, his voice reluctant. “She used a favor _I_ owed her and told me to find you.”

I made a low noncommittal noise even as my thoughts started racing. I do admit that I had once wondered how he'd become involved so rapidly. I hadn't doubted that he would _eventually_ become aware of the presence of the Knights of the Blackened Denarians in Chicago, one way or another, although mostly due to his relationships with the Knights of the Cross. My certainty that he would arrive on the island had been cemented when the Denarians brought along the child, the Archive. It was an irrefutable fact that whenever major supernatural trouble stirred in my city the wizard would end up in the eye of that particular magical storm before too long. Yet it had never occurred to me to think that it had been the Queen of the Winter Fae, Mab herself, who had been instrumental in involving Harry.

She wanted me saved.

“Mab doesn't believe in charity,” Harry added.

And she hadn't demanded payment from me for the rescue. 

“It is disconcerting,” I said slowly, after a minute of silence following that bombshell. “To find myself entangled in the plans of beings older than recorded history when I hadn't even been aware of their interest in the first place.”

Beside me, Harry's shoulders shook with a barely stifled bark of laughter. “Oh, I know...trust me, I know,” he said, dark amusement ringing in his voice. “It sorta makes you want to run away screaming and maybe find one of those underground apocalypse bunkers to live out the rest of your life.”

I briefly considered the cost of having such a bunker built before regretfully setting the thought aside as impractical. I would end up having to build one to accommodate all of Chicago, because I would not leave my freehold (my people, my properties, my _city_ ) to suffer the consequences of my abandonment. But before I could say another word, the mantle's power in my chest started tugging at me with rising urgency. 

There was another battle site which needed my attention.

I stood up, regretfully breaking the physical contact I had been keeping with Harry. I ignored his startled jerk and called out, “Hendricks, Gard, our break is over. We have another place we need to be.”

“Damn it,” Harry swore harshly.


	3. Chapter 3

Fighting a dragon was not in the list of things I'd thought I would ever end up doing. Even after learning about supernatural and how the world was full of predators which viewed human beings as little more than tasty morsels and toys to torment, I hadn't ever seriously considered that I would end up facing a dragon. They were considered incredibly rare even among the non-humans.

“Technically, it's a cold drake, a lesser dragon,” Harry gritted through teeth clenched in concentration. An opaque magical shield hovered before us in a kaleidoscope of colors, catching the cold, blue-white energy blast which shot forth from the dragon's wide-open jaws like fire. Even with the shield and my new resistance to cold, I could feel the intense frigidness of the blast. Tiny icicles formed on my eyelashes. I turned away to protect my eyes and saw that around us the ground was cracking and rocks were shattering as they froze when the water within them expanded suddenly.

Harry grunted deeply with effort. An ice sheathe grew on the arm that he was holding out, covering his fingertips and continued up to end at his upper arm. The ice thickened into armor in seconds, allowing Harry to keep up his magical shield until arctic cold blast ended.

The cold drake screamed in rage when it saw us standing unharmed.

Gard and Hendricks, taking advantage of the distraction we had provided, launched their attack.

Hendricks had given up on the guns as a lost cause early in the fight as the beast's hide proved impenetrable even to armor piercing rounds. Instead, he had switched to wielding a claymore, the two-handed longsword he had been carrying. The sword had taken quite a lot of searching and a rather substantial fortune to acquire, for the Wallace sword was thought long lost, but it was proving to be well worth the effort. And against the dragon, it was a much better weapon for Hendricks. He had managed to hamstring the rear left leg of the enormous creature.

“The distinction currently escapes me,” I said absently, as I studied the battle. Gard had succeeded in injuring the creature's left wing joint with an ax blow, powered by her rune magic. It left the cold drake flightless, costing the beast its primary advantage of flight. Still the creature was easily twice the length of city bus, and that was without factoring in its wingspan or its spiked tail or the working wing which it could still use to protect itself.

“Trust me, you wouldn't want to face a real dragon. I wouldn't want to face a real dragon, at least not without an army, a couple of nukes and every member of the White Council that I could get,” Harry said. “And even then, I'd still wouldn't want to.”

I discarded the empty clip and reloaded. I held the gun in my left hand and pulled the Winter King's sword from its black leather scabbard to carry it in my right. “I'm all out of nuclear weapons today. Maybe next time.”

“...don't scare me like that, Marcone... stars and stones.”

I was grinning, wide enough to make my cheeks hurt. “Can you get us closer?” It seemed the popular story of dragons having a soft underbelly was true. I had noticed that the scales of the creature where where different than the rest. They looked thinner, more like the underside of a crocodile or an alligator than the thick plates of armor which made up the dragon's back. The beast seemed aware of its vulnerability as it tried to stay low to the ground, exposing only the armored scales which looked like chucks of crystal, to the blows of the ax or sword.

“Yeah, but any magic I throw at it will be useless. All dragons, even lesser dragons, are immune to mortal magic. I might as well try spitting at it.”

“Just keep the fire off me, Dresden.”

I signaled Hendricks and Gard by raising the sword. They redoubled their efforts to get the cold drake to focus its attention on them. 

The moment the dragon paused to inhale deeply before it let loose more blue fire, I told Harry to drop the magical shield. The instant it was down I emptied my semi-automatic, aiming for the dragon's eyes. It didn't injure it, but it did make it flinch and bellow in startled rage, as the shots forced it to close its eyes.

With the dragon distracted Hendricks charged, leaping off a boulder to land on its back. He swung for the remaining wing-joint. As the blade of the claymore struck the beast, a brilliant flash of white light illuminated the clearing.

I was laughing, despite myself, because Hendricks had succeeded in damaging the last wing, putting another limb out of commission.

The cold drake screamed with rage and turned its long neck upon itself to strike out Hendricks. Which was the moment I was waiting for. Instantly, I raced forward, moving faster than I ever would have been able to manage without the mantle. Harry easily kept pace with me.

“Ventas servitas,” Harry bellowed, and the boulder which Hendricks had used as a handy step-stool was yanked clean from the snowy earth and smashed with brutal force into the cold drake's head. The dragon shook its horned head and screamed so loudly my ears ached from the sonic pressure. Hendricks slid down the other side of the dragon's body and as soon as he was clear of claw range he darted out of sight into a narrow passage in the sedimentary rock-wall.

The dragon snapped forward, its head knocking slabs of rock from the outcropping. It opened its jaw to send a cold blast after Hendricks. But I had already made it to my target. I slid under the dragon's body, like a baseball player stealing home plate, keeping my body low. I drove the point of the sword into the dragon' chest. It pierced the thin pale scales with ease, sinking deeply until the entire blade was in the dragon up to the cross-guard. 

The roar of pain the dragon let loose shook the earth and the snow, echoing off the mountains and sounding like an avalanche. I barely slowed down as I rolled back out from under the cold drake. I kept a tight grip on the hilt of the sword, pulling it after me. Fortunately, it slid out as easily as it had sunk in, even with the beast thrashing in pain.

Harry shouted a word which I could have sworn sounded like 'gravitas'. I turned my gaze back to see rocks, dead grass and snow floating around the wizard as if gravity had been switched off around him. My eyes widened. He made a gesture and five massive rocks smashed down like missiles onto the dragon's head, neck, and back. 

The dragon hit the ground with bone-crushing force. It didn't move even after several seconds. 

I had never been the kind of child who'd played at slaying dragons, yet the reality proved to be satisfying on multiple levels. And not just because of the three little girls who had been offered to the beast as its meal. I looked over to where I had last seen Gard diving into a deep snowbank. She nodded at me, answering my silent question.

The cold drake was dead.

Good.

*-*-*-*

Yet the task didn't end with simply killing the dragon this time around as there were more monsters involved. Human monsters, like the cultists who'd been perfectly willing to sacrifice a little girl to summon the cold drake and were going to feed three others to it to gain its favor. We had arrived too late to save one of the children and her death was on their heads. 

“Bring it down,” I ordered, staring at the ice wall which Harry had created to keep the cultists in their foul cave. 

Harry crossed his arms. “Are you going to kill them?” he asked flatly. 

I gave him bland look.

“I want to know, because if you're not going to kill them. I _will,_ ” Harry said angrily, bloodlust brightening his eyes even as he features became dark.

“I think this is a task better suited to me,” I said, after a moment of thought. Killing in cold blood was something I was used to. It didn't bother me. It would bother him, if not now then later after he had managed to shed the influence of the Winter Knight's mantle. I reached out my hand to catch his right elbow. At once he shuddered, grasping my arm in return as the Winter King's power calmed him down, draining away his bloodlust. It was like light and sanity came back into his face. I knew I had made the correct decision when he looked like he was going to be sick all over my combat boots.

“Bring down the ice,” I asked, after giving him a couple of seconds to compose himself. I released him and faced the ice wall. 

“Okay,” Harry said stiffly, before he gesturing with the staff and saying another magical word. The thick ice wall shattered like it had been made out of thin paned glass. At once the stink of blood rolled out into the clean air. I narrowed my eyes and pulled out the sword of the Winter King. Bullets would have been faster but the extra clips of ammunition were in the chariot and I wanted to have this tasked finished as quickly as possible. 

I got to work. 

It took me five tries before I found a cultist who spoke English and another four bodies before I found one who also knew the names of the girls and from where they had been taken. As soon as I got the information I needed I executed the last of the cultists.

Then I carefully wrapped the body of the little girl, which had been left splayed on the altar, in the clean robe which I had taken off a cultist. I was careful to not leave any sort of forensic evidence behind, even though I doubted the South African police would be able to match the DNA of a U.S. citizen with anything in their databases. Yet it wasn't a risk I was prepared to make, especially knowing that there were quite a few law enforcement agencies just waiting for an opening in my defenses. Interpol was among them.

I carried the wrapped body out of the cave. Upon exiting the cave mouth I found that Hendricks was waiting with Harry. I handed the pitiful bundle to Hendricks, who took it without hesitation, only the slump of shoulders giving away what he was feeling. “I'm not leaving her with them,” I said calmly. “Make make certain the other three don't see you.” Hendricks nodded, and handed me two full clips of ammunition.

I was still holding the sword, so I flickered the bloody blade of the sword to the side until fine red droplets hit the ground. Then I cleaned the blade with handkerchief before returning it to scabbard. As I loaded a new clip into my handgun I noticed that Harry looked like he had been struck by a revelation. I thought he mumbled something which sounded like 'blood on the snow'. He wasn't more forthcoming, but Hendricks shot him a startled glance. 

“Hogfather?” Hendricks asked, to my utter bafflement. He and Harry exchanged mutual looks of surprise, although you had to know Hendricks to see it in him. Hendricks glanced at me with an evaluating eye. “Hmm, it works.” 

I ignored them both as I started walking back to the chariot.

“Gard is calling a clean up team for the dragon,” Hendricks said after he caught up to me, sticking to my left side. 

“It was a cold drake,” Harry interjected, from my right. With every other step his elbow bumped against my upper arm. I noticed he was going out of his way to make the contact linger. I tried not to make it mean more than what it was, ignoring the voice within who wanted to make it _more._

“She said the last time one of those things had been seen on Earth was well over a 1,000 years ago. She wanted to now if you wanted to sell off the parts or if you wanted keep them for yourself.”

“They would be magically valuable,” Harry said neutrally. 

“Do you want any of it?” I asked him.

“Want? No. Need at some point? Probably,” Harry sighed deeply. “Quiet a number of powerful items can be made from the blood of lesser dragons and even more from the scales.”

“Tell Gard to make certain I retain the most valuable parts. The rest can be sold off, carefully. I would prefer it didn't end up in the hands of our enemies. Profit to be split four ways.”

Harry made a soft noise of surprise. Hendricks nodded and walked away briskly towards where the body of the cold drake lay. He would also make certain that the cleaners got orders to get the child's corpse to the rightful authorities without us being connected to her murder.

“It's wrong to profit from her death,” Harry said, after several minutes of silence.

I didn't say anything. This was a moral point we were destined to disagree about. The body of the dragon needed to be disposed of safely. Gaining from its presence on Earth was an unexpected bonus. I would not pass up any advantage I could get merely because I found the events which brought the beast here... distasteful.

“Give my share to her family. See that she gets a proper burial,” Harry added, before stretching his legs and rapidly outpacing me. He veered away from the direction of the chariot, doubtlessly remembering the way the children have been reacting to him.

I watched him go and ignored the urge to follow. Instead, I continued on toward the chariot and the children which were waiting to be taken to a safe, warm place.

*-*-*-*

Hendricks was the first one to return to the chariot and the patiently waiting elk. The three little girls were curled up under the Winter King's red fur cloak, cuddling with each other as they slept. This time their somnolence was solely my fault. The mantle's power had reacted when I wished them to stay in one place so we could take down the cold drake by sending them to sleep in a wave of bone-melting warmth. The only reason I hadn't been alarmed when they'd fallen asleep so unexpectedly had been due to the small smiles on their faces. Also, Gard checked them over and declared that they weren't harmed by the magic. Harry had made subdued remark, lacking its usual spirit, about visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads.

“Where's Dresden?” Hendricks asked, his voice cautiously low.

“Gathering his thoughts, or possibly burning something down,” I said, my voice equally low.

Hendricks snorted in amusement. He peered over the side of the chariot to check on the sleeping children. “Do we need to move on?”

“Not yet,” I said. The mantle wasn't tugging at me but the reprieve probably wouldn't last much longer of the pattern of the last day held true to form. “But they need to be dropped off with the authorities beforehand, they were taken from a nearby city, Newcastle.” I wouldn't risk being late to another call. Not again.

“Sigrun should be done in a couple of minutes. She had an idea about tanning the softer scales. Apparently, dragon skin retains the magic-resistant properties even after death. Could be useful.” 

“Interesting,” I said, intrigued by the possibilities.

“Hmm,” Hendricks agreed. 

I waited. Hendricks never indulged in banal conversation, at least not when we were in private.

“You've been spending a lot of time with Dresden,” he finally said.

Hendricks has never liked Harry, probably because the man had introduced him to magic by ripping the doors off one of my establishments and coming in like an unstoppable force of nature. It had been a scene which had certainly left a strong impression on Hendricks. He has never understood why I had never seen fit to kill the wizard. Hendricks is not a natural killer, but when it comes to his fear at the power which Harry wields so easily, his first instinct is to shoot. I had only once pointed out that it seemed too much of a 'thou shall not suffer a witch to live' attitude, only to get what felt like a thesis defense on the consequences of letting a wizard, who'd never relented in expressing his dislike of me, to continue to live in Chicago.

We settled it by agreeing to disagree and me giving orders to leave Harry Dresden alone.

“Circumstances being what they are,” I said. “I can hardly avoid him.”

“That's not it,” Hendricks said. “The Winter King's power is eroding your self-control, you want to spend time with him and so you do.”

“I won't do anything rash,” I said. No matter how much the desire to do so was growing the longer I was in Harry's presence. Anyway, I wasn't certain if I could lay the blame solely on the Winter King's mantle. My own desires were powerful enough without magic being involved.

“Maybe you should.”

I stared at him. Hendricks didn't often take me by surprise. We've known each other too long and had fought by each other side's in too many battles. We've seen each other through too many highs and lows. So it's significant when I say that those words were the _last_ thing I expected from him. 

Hendricks continued, “There are a lot of advantages regarding timing. He can't harm you, bound as he is by the Winter Queen's orders.”

It was a good point. “At least until the moment the 72 hours are up.” The minute the fourth sunrise began, ending the third day, all bets were off and whatever protection I was being granted from the Winter Court and its Knight would end. I had noticed the careful phrasing by the Leanansidhe and I doubted that it had slipped by Harry.

“Your actions could be blamed the on influence of the mantle,” Hendricks continued, after an acknowledging nod. “It's already affecting you a lot... you're smiling more.”

“Yes,” I agreed, for once giving in and rubbing at the bubbling presence in my chest. The feel of it was getting larger, as well as stronger. What had started as a concentrated point of heat below my breastbone now covered my entire upper chest and it was still spreading.

“And after the wizard's supposed death...”

I grimaced, slicing my left hand through the air to cut him off. Hendricks didn't need to retread that familiar conversational ground. We had covered it over and over before last Halloween when I got confirmation and evidence proving Harry was alive. For over a year after the gory scene at the marina had been discovered, I had remained convinced that he yet lived, no matter what arguments Hendricks used or how much evidence pointed to the unlikelihood of any normal human being surviving the loss of that much blood. But then, Harry Dresden was no ordinary human being, or even a wizard, from all accounts I'd collected on the White Council members. It was also the time period I stopped referring to him only Dresden and started calling him by his first name. It had been a harder habit to break than I expected to only call him Harry in my mind and not aloud.

Hendricks snorted and quoted, _“Love is like war: easy to begin but very hard to stop.”_

“Go get, Gard,” I said, waving him away before the man could start up another one of his quotation barrages. He could go on and on and on until I either frantically waved a white flag or made an immediate strategic retreat. It was his favorite method of getting me to get some sleep after a long night of pouring over the latest papers from my lawyers or accountants or reports from my agents in the field. It was a method which worked all too well to my chagrin and which I had yet to build a workable defense against. Fighting fire with fire may be useful advice in a fight, but battling words with words against Hendricks was like going to war with a handgun and only one clip of ammunition against his hundreds of rounds of machine gun artillery. 

I knew when I was outmatched.

I grimaced. Speaking to Harry about...well, it wasn't a thought I had been entertaining outside of unrealistic fantasies. I was perfectly content with the status quo when it came to my interactions with Harry. Even if I suspected the man would return my interest, I wasn't inclined to get him involved with my life. Even before I'd become a signatory of the Unseelie Accords my life made targets of those around me, yet Hendricks had a point. It was entirely possible that the Winter King's mantle would continue to erode away my self-control until my interest in him became impossible to hide. The thought of having the choice taken away from me due to magical influences made me quietly furious.

Hendricks' small smirk flashed briefly but he left to get Gard as I ordered, leaving me with some rather unappetizing food for thought. 

*-*-*-*

Harry didn't reappeared until Gard and Hendricks had settled down onto the archers' bench at back of the chariot while I was holding the reins of the elk. He looked pale. Wary. As if he'd was mentally preparing himself for a dangerous fight. Every time he glanced at me, his gaze would instantly skitter away.

And I knew at once that he had overheard the conversation I'd had with Hendricks. It shook me.

“Hurry up, Mr. Dresden, or you'll have to find your own way back to Chicago,” I said, after a couple of seconds. I managed to keep my tone and body language calm, even though my mouth had gone dry, my hands were clenched tightly around the reins, and my heart beat at a faster tempo. I kept my gaze on the backs of the elk, watching their massive antlers move as their heads dipped and bobbed. I didn't wait for Harry to stand at his usual place at my side. I whistled sharply to command the elk to move as soon as both of his feet were inside the chariot.

It was time to drop off the children. Their parents had been in lost in despair long enough.

*-*-*-*

Fighting for over 45 hours with little more than a couple of hours of rest between stops takes a toll, even on people with with magically strengthened bodies. For all that I had various enhancements from carrying the temporary power of the Winter King, I was still mortal. I was flagging and I wasn't the only one. Hendricks was doing what he could, stealing sleep between monster fights and devouring protein bars loaded with thousands of calories but he was exhausted. I was leery of going into another fight with his reflexes slowed by fatigue. He had already picked up a few minor wounds which could easily have been fatal.

In the last fight Hendricks had nearly taken a two inch thick bone spike through his neck from yet another Rawhead and Bloody Bones. If Gard's aim hadn't been impeccable, deflecting the spike away with a thrown ax then I would've lost him. I had been overcome with such strong relief that as soon as the monster had been defeated I hugged him so tightly that he complained about his ribs, but Hendricks had been smiling as he did so I wasn't alarmed.

So I was grateful when the mantle stopped tugging at me long enough to make think me we could set down for another break. We landed in New Zealand, in a lone spot as far from other people as I could find. Harry had made a strange noise when I told everyone where we were and started muttering under his breath about hobbits. We didn't bother setting up camp too far from the chariot, simply rolling out sleeping bags on the frozen ground, even though the sky was slowly brightening with the approaching dawn.

Already half asleep, Hendricks crawled into his sleeping bag barely pausing to removing the sword and assault rifle before he flopped down belly first. He was asleep before I finished setting up the other sleeping bags, the sight of which tempted me to mimic him. Yet tired as I was, I was still in better shape than Gard. She had been fighting as hard as Hendricks, as well as taking on the additional energy sink of slinging magic like Harry. Usually she took first watch, but considering how vital her skills would be in the upcoming fights, since there was about 27 hours left to go, it was more important that she get rest. 

So I planned on taking first watch.

As I waited for her to finish setting the perimeter defenses I swallowed down a couple caffeine pills and chased them with a protein bar. I pulled another bar out of my pack and held it out to Harry on reflex, as I'd been taking most of the responsibility over the last two days in seeing that he ate. 

He took a couple of steps away from me before he realized I wasn't holding a weapon.

“Dresden, if I wanted to shoot you I certainly wouldn't do it now,” I said blandly. 

“That's not–” Harry cut himself off. He glowered at me but took the bar from my hand.

I didn't wait for a thank you. I simply turned my back on him and walked toward Gard. If the man wasn't happy with what he'd learned by eavesdropping then that was his own damned fault. Any disappointment or hurt which I was feeling I blamed on the effects of the Winter King's mantle. It had to be the reason why his actions were affecting me so strongly.

“I'll take first watch, Ms. Gard,” I said, as I watched her finish setting up that magical circle around the camp. I blinked away the afterimage of a Nordic rune burning blue in mid-air. “Get some sleep, I don't know how much longer it will be until we have to move on.”

Gard inclined her head in acceptance. “Yes, it's doubtful we will get a chance to rest again. The solstice will begin at the location where the Fae Queens have set up their source of power within 24 hours, but until then we'll be busy.”

I sighed. Yes, that seemed likely. “Then you definitely should definitely get some sleep.”

“Only for an hour as you also require rest.” She paused in mid-turn, looking back to me. “I could speak with the wizard.”

I wasn't surprised she had noticed the recent change in Harry's behavior. She was an incredibly intelligent and observant consultant. I often regretted that she was ultimately employed by Monoc Securities even though I was paying a substantial amount for her service. I would have vastly preferred it if I'd been able to call myself her sole employer.

“Thank you, but that won't be necessary,” I said quietly, touched by her offer. It didn't exactly fall in her job description, well... unless I wanted to use the part of her contract which stipulated that she had to act as an intermediary with other signatories should I be unable to attend to them myself, but that was only for business purposes. This was personal. I preferred to keep my employees and consultants away from personal matters, no matter how dire the circumstances. Hendricks was the only exception to that rule, but that was only because we've known each other for so long that the border between friend and employer had long since blurred into intangibility.

Gard nodded in acceptance and without another word she walked to Hendricks and crawled into her sleeping bag which I'd laid out as she set up our security. I faced our surroundings and began slowly pacing out the perimeter, keeping within the circle which Gard had carved into the snow and dirt.

“Gard doesn't need to talk to me,” Harry said, his voice low.

As I had been sensing his approach I didn't startle or reach for my gun. Instead I struggled to contain a wide range of emotions. I was annoyed, hurt and nearly caught breathless with... with hope. It was the hope which tripped me up. I could manage with the other emotions without flinching but hope... it was such a rare and precious emotion that I wasn't used to trying to suppress it. I didn't think I wanted to even try.

I barely kept in an exasperated sigh. “I figured as much, Mr. Dresden. Considering what we're doing I hardly think you would sabotage our work. Now, if you really want to be beneficial go get some rest. You can use my sleeping bag.”

“Would you stop that!”

Startled, I turned around to face him. 

He scowled at me, his hands balled into fists. “Stop being so goddamned _nice._ ”

I blinked and I couldn't help smiling. “Would you prefer I called you names and threatened to take your lunch money?” I asked lightly. 

Harry just grew more angry at my flippant words. He took a deep shuddering breath, and I could see the great effort it took for him to force the anger down and keep it leashed. I half expected him to reach for me to use the Winter King's mantle to make it easier to control the effects of the Knight's power but he kept his hands by his sides in tight fists.

Through clenched teeth Harry said, “I've been trying to figure it out.”

I tilted my head slightly in silent query. 

“What you and Hendricks are trying to do. What benefit you're trying to get out of saying that-- that you--” Harry flailed a hand between us, trying to encompass in gestures what he apparently couldn't put to words. 

I stilled. Ah, well, that answered more than one question, including why it had taken so long for Harry to confront me. In hindsight it wasn't a surprising line of thought for Harry to be contemplating. When you considered our history, including my rather disastrous attempt at forcing the man to sign a contract to work for me (which I still maintain it would have been a great benefit to the both of us), much less the fact we didn't interact on a social level – unless you counted the times I became involved with various supernatural threats, which I didn't – that I was trying to manipulate him was almost a reasonable suspicion. 

Almost. 

I'd never been anything less than upfront with him when it came to my previous interest in getting to work for me. I only ever had one reason to maintain my silence in events involving him, and I ultimately failed in hiding that secret from him too. It was a source of wonder to me to know that even years later Harry had yet to use that particular weakness against me, even at his angriest he'd never let slip a word or insinuation. I suspected that it had been the moment, when he confronted me as I left the long term care facility, that my feelings for him began to deepen.

Harry continued, “Because I can't figure how you could have known I'd be listening in.”

“I didn't know,” I said flatly. “I would rather you hadn't given in to your curiosity and had respected my privacy, Mr. Dresden.”

Harry shook his head, disbelief written large across his face. “No, I don't believe – it's not – you're freaking John Marcone. You're criminal scum. You don't have a heart!”

“Keep your voice down, Mr. Dresden. People are trying to sleep,” I said sharply. I took my own deep breath to control my temper. I really wanted to break his nose. To make him _see_ what I really was, what I really felt. I wasn't made of stone or steel, no matter what the rumors about me said and hearing those words from Harry made my heart ache. I _wanted_ so badly to change his mind, which wasn't like me. I didn't care what others opinions about me were, and I had never let Harry's obvious disgust with what I was affect me so much. It had to be a side-effect of the mantle's power, which was making me more aware of how he viewed me, more sensitive to his revulsion and wanting to do _something_ , anything, to change it.

The impulse left me shaken. I had to take a second simply to breathe, to move past it, before I forced myself to think tactically. Maybe...maybe Harry's distrust was something I could use to my advantage. If I confirmed his suspicions, I would be able to increase his disgust in me and widen both the metaphorical and physical space between us, giving me the time I needed to return to normal after the mantle's power faded. I would be able to cover this particular weak spot before he fully understood the true meaning of what he'd overheard and of the power advantage it granted him.

I took two rapid steps towards Harry, making him startle.

“Hendricks is an unrealistic romantic. I simply want to own you. Imagine my disappointment when I learned the Fae Queen had claimed you first.”

My back was to the slowly rising sun which gave me the advantage of keeping my own features in shadows even as the rays lit up Harry's face. I got a good view of the pupils of Harry's eyes contracting with rage as well as his lips peeling back in a snarl which rumbled in his chest like the warning of a rattlesnake.

Harry lashed out his right hand.

I suppressed my instant reaction to duck, weave and strike back and instead braced myself to take his punch. So I was taken off guard when Harry merely gripped me by the collar of my shirt and yanked me towards him until I was only a couple of inches away from him and raised up on my toes. It was a wonder I wasn't dangling, held up by his fae given super-strength.

“You son of bitch!”

I reacted at once, gripping his wrist with my thumb placed to dig into his hand to force him to let me go when the Winter King's mantle surged up and poured into Harry, calming him down. He blinked rapidly. I held off on breaking free, curious to see what he would do. For several seconds, he stared down at me, evaluating me. I met his eyes without flinching, keeping my expression cold as I tried to hide the way my heart was beating faster.

I didn't know if I'd succeeded. I had the sinking feeling I hadn't.

“Your eyes are different,” Harry said, in a non-sequitur. “They're normally the same color of faded dollar bills but now...they remind me of evergreens...Christmas trees.”

I blinked, thrown by his words. We stared at each other for another long moment while I grew entirely too aware of the heat of his body against my front. If I stayed in place much longer than Harry would be made fully aware of the sexual slant in my interest in him.

“The mantle is turning you into a horrible liar, John,” Harry continued slowly, as he was choosing his words with care. Which was more than a little disconcerting. “Because I don't believe a single word you said.”

Involuntarily, my jaw clenched and I knew he'd seen my reaction when satisfaction flashed across his face. Damn it. I stiffened as I said harshly, “Frankly, it's none of your business, Mr. Dresden.”

“I think it is. You're –”

I tore away from him, using my own augmented strength to force myself away, giving me space. “A criminal and someone you're planning on, how did you put it: 'Soon as I get done with all the other evils in this town, you won't be the lesser of them anymore',” I quoted.

Harry's smile was wry. “I thought you weren't worried about that.”

“I'm not and as events afterward proved you're hardly immune to a sniper's bullet,” I said. He flinched, no doubt reading the reminder as a threat, which was exactly why I had used it. “But that meeting did inform me of where I fall in your estimation. And like I said, Hendricks is a romantic. I'm not. Get some sleep, Mr. Dresden and forget you ever eavesdropped on private conversations about topics you were never intended to learn.”

I turned my back on him and returned to pace the perimeter. I could hear Harry swearing under his breath. I was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to turn back to tell him what I was really feeling, what I really wanted from him. I gritted my teeth, ignored my foolish hopes and kept walking. I had about 55 more minutes to fill before I woke Gard for her shift.

*-*-*-*

I woke up abruptly. I had my right hand clenched around a knife when I realized what had woken me up. The hook of mantle's power was tugging within me again.

Before I could swear in frustration, as it felt like I'd only just closed my eyes, I realized that I could feel a large rough hand pressed against my left knuckles, on the opposite side of where Hendricks slumbered quietly. I flickered my eyes to Harry, who was staring up at the sky, which was an endless cerulean blue. He looked contemplative and conflicted... and unhappy. He wasn't holding my hand, just touching enough of my skin to get the mantle's power flowing through to him in such a languid pace I hadn't even sensed the draw as I slept. 

Irritated at being used without my consent and while unconscious, I pulled my hand away. Harry shot me startled glance. Clearly, he hadn't expected me to catch him. I flashed him a glare as I sat up before I signaled to Gard.

Gently, I pressed my hand to Hendricks' shoulder. "Time to wake up. We need to move on."

Hendricks grumbled but he opened his eyes and got to his feet, however grudgingly. 

*-*-*-*

Eight hours later, and after three more monster fights, the chariot was flying high over the Pacific ocean. Under the night sky, the water was a flat expanse of endless black barely illuminated by the distant stars and waning crescent moon, I was focused on getting the chariot to fly to the nearest piece of land to take advantage of another lull when I heard it. 

I _felt_ it. 

It was as if someone had struck down on the world's largest drum, producing a low sound of such power that it reverberated in my bones for several seconds. The sensation had an instant affect of me. The heat of the Winter King's mantle spread out of my core to all over my body until my temples, fingers and toes thrummed with its power.

Abruptly, I knew that the Queens were beginning their ritual power exchange at whatever site they had chosen this year. For me, that meant that the globe-trotting was over. I was now supposed to fulfill my final duty as the stand in for the Winter King. 

I hauled on the reins, abruptly changing course.

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed startled, as he rocked into my side. He grabbed onto my shoulder to steady himself but continued to hold on. I shot him a surprised look when he didn't immediately leap away which made him flush before finally moving back.

“Boss?” Hendricks asked sleepily, raising his head from Gard's shoulder. I glanced back at him to give him reassuring look.

“Nothing is wrong. The solstice is starting,” I explained. “It's time to pick the duel site.”

“Duel?” Harry asked, confused and annoyed. “Wait. What duel?”

*-*-*-*


	4. Chapter 4

“This is crazy,” Harry said, his voice tight with disbelief. He was standing behind me as I scanned my surroundings.

I had been told I could pick the ground, and so I'd chosen to go back to South America, especially Argentina. I thought that it would be vastly easier for Gard, Hendricks and Harry to return to Chicago from there then it would be from anywhere else. I wasn't planning on being killed, but I did have to consider the possibility and plan for how they would be able to get home again. I couldn't rely on the chariot and the elk being available. I would have preferred returning to Chicago, but I had been told by Vadderung that the duel needed to take place in the Southern hemisphere.

“Hell's bells, Marcone! You can't seriously think you can take on the Erlking and win, do you? He leads the Wild Hunt! He rules the goblins! He's the King of freaking Summer! Do you have any idea how powerful he is?”

“Winning isn't the goal here, Mr. Dresden,” I said, as I studied the ground, thinking of the tactical advantages and disadvantages. I'd picked a location away from the mountains, choosing instead to fight on an icy field of dirt, rocks and brown grass. Large beech trees lined the field, their bare limbs shivered under a strong wind which whistled through the branches making eerie, moaning noises. To the East I could see the Andes, stretching out in a distant line of jagged blue-gray teeth topped with snow.

We where in a middle of a large park, a nature reserve, which I'd chosen a spot as far from humanity as I could find. I would be able to move quickly on this ground but then so would my opponent. Frankly, my best bet was to fight hard and fast and exploit any openings I could find. I doubted there would be many. Or any. My briefing on the Summer King suddenly felt too spare of details. Knowing his fighting style, or his preferred weapons would have been great advantage.

“Oh, then what's the goal here?” Harry snapped.

I turned to him to see him scowling at me. I couldn't help feeling a bright surge of delight at the sight of him. He looked dangerous and capable, with fire snapping in his eyes. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to see if I couldn't change his expression into a smile or redirect his passion into other, far more satisfying, channels. I took a step towards him before it hit me what I was about to do and stopped myself.

Startled, Harry's eyes widened. Then I could see understanding sweeping across his face. Then he looked flustered as if he didn't know how to react.

“I would have thought that as the Winter Knight, you'd already know,” I said, instead of the words which the mantle was urging me to use. Under its influence, I wanted to reach out to him, to see if I could forge with him that human connection which fed the soul. I wanted to share the delight bubbling away within me with him. I wanted to feel the warmth of his skin under my fingertips.

I took several steps away from temptation.

“The job didn't come with an instruction manual, and the Sidhe aren't exactly known for sharing information without a price,” Harry said, his voice quiet and contemplative. To my mounting frustration he followed after me as I tried to widen the gap between us.

“The duel is part of the ritual,” I said crisply. “Similar to how the Queens pass on power between them, the Kings also do something similar.”

“That explains why you don't care about winning. You're not supposed to, not if the power in the South is changing from Winter to Summer. The Erlking is supposed to win.”

“Precisely,” I sighed. “Now that I've satisfied your curiosity, go away, Mr. Dresden. I need to think and you're being entirely too distracting.”

It wasn't until he blushed that I realized that my choices of words could be interpreted as me finding him sexually distracting, as opposed to just being an irritant. 

“Oh, um... ri-right,” Harry stuttered out. “I'll just.. um, just over there.” He pointed back to the chariot where Hendricks and Gard had wisely chosen to remain out of my hair. Harry stumbled away. 

My amusement grew and I couldn't help the chuckling. A blushing Harry Dresden was truly a sight to behold. I suspected my admiring gaze wasn't as well hidden as I would have liked. I could see the back of Harry's neck turn scarlet as his blush deepened as he moved away to give me space as I asked. I shook my head to forced down influence of the mantle's power and returned my attention to the battleground with my mood lightened and a wide smile on my lips.

*-*-*-*

The Summer King, also known as the Erlking and Lord Herne of the Hunt, strode out of an opening in the mid-air which was little more than a slit of verdant green energy. Through it wafted the scent of harsh woodsmoke, roasting meat and a smell which brought to mind an undergrowth of an ancient forest, full of green things growing as the dead decayed into rich soil.

Herne was over seven feet tall and wore leather from head to toe, including gloves, in colors of greens, browns and grays essentially old style camouflage. He had an unstrung recurve bow and quiver over his left shoulder and at his right hip rested a longsword in a battered green scabbard which hung from an equally worn green leather belt. The Erlking had the type of face which reminded me of an experienced brawler, a bare-knuckle fighter. It was too beaten and misshapen to be considered handsome by conventional standards but it had a silent, powerful history which proved him to be someone who'd survived more fights than those around him. And Herne knew it too. He moved with a grace of an expert marital artist, or an experienced dancer, someone who was well aware of a their body, what they could do with it and who wouldn't hesitate to use it as a weapon.

The Summer King was easily among the top three more dangerous monsters that I had ever faced, and I was including the dragon in that count.

And _I_ was expected to give him a fight. 

“So thou art the one chosen by Kringle,” Herne rumbled, as he scanned me with eyes colored green-gold. His grin was a savage humorless thing, like that of a tiger shark.

“Yes,” I said simply but respectfully. 

He sniffed the air like a dog and turned towards chariot which was about 20 feet away. “Winter Knight, I was not expecting to see thee here,” Herne called out, dark amusement in his voice. “I did not think I would get an opportunity to hunt thee again so soon.”

“Well, I can't say I thought I'd be seeing you either,” Harry said his voice casual, although I could see how his body language practically screaming his fear and tension.

It triggered every protective instinct I had. I stepped into Herne's line of sight, blocking his view of Harry. I said firmly, “Harry Dresden is under my aegis.” My words successfully reclaimed the Erlking's attention. 

Herne studied me with a terrible thoroughness. I gritted my teeth, narrowed my eyes, and bore it stoically.

“The Winter Knight dost not usually have the protection of the Winter King,” Herne said flatly. A warning or possibly a threat darkened his face. His golden-green eyes narrowed. “Is it a burden thou art prepared to accept?”

“Marcone...”

“Be quiet for once, Dresden,” I snapped, glaring at Harry, who looked taken aback. I shifted my eyes back to Herne. “And I didn't say the Winter Knight, Lord Herne. I said Harry Dresden.”

The Erlking flashed me another shark smile, this one was much more approving yet still as deadly. “A distinction which is worthy of note.” He paused, looking thoughtfully at Harry. “Very well, Baron. For this day, thine retinue will be left unharmed as agreed.”

I nodded. A thank you was on the tip of my tongue but I held it back. Gratitude would imply a debt, and the Elkring was still a fae. I didn't want him to start thinking I owned him anything. 

“I'm ready. Let's finish this,” I said, gesturing to the wide empty space which I had picked. 

Bloodthirsty delight spread across the Erlking's face, and his grin turned into that of a wolf, teeth bared in threat and hunger. “Agreed.”

I settled into the spot I'd chosen, absently thinking that it was too bad the it wasn't high noon... or maybe it was better that it wasn't, those fights usually ended in a death and I was still determined to survive this encounter.

This fight wouldn't be a duel by the standards set in the Unseelie Accords. Near as I could tell it was from an older form of fighting. Trial by combat came to mind. Fighting to the death was another. It was a fight without rules, except for one: No one was allowed to interfere when it began.

I waited until Herne had settled into place so that we faced each other before I drew the Winter King's sword from its scabbard. He echoed my action, raising the blade before his face in a salute which I copied. 

I didn't know if it was simply because I had been fighting with it for so long, or that the Winter King's mantle was interacting with the sword, but the blade felt like a part of me. It was as if it had become an extension of my arm over the past three days. It was as if my comfort with knives had extended to it, and I held the sword which much more ease than I had when I was first given it by the Leanansidhe.

The Erlking didn't even pause to study my form, and a split second after my returned salute, he was slashing at me. I reacted at once, drawing my handgun and shooting with my left hand even as I dodged, moving back to avoid the sword's edge. The Erlking hadn't been expecting the gun. He jerked back as a bullets caught him in the right shoulder and the above the right knee.

But these bullets were only lead and they wouldn't slow him for long so I kept backpedaling away from him. Unfortunately, I'd run out of the steel-jacketed ammunition, something I regretted fiercely as I saw how in seconds Herne went from limping to walking back with his usual grace as he stalked me across the field.

Again, Herne rushed forward and I brought up the sword, deflecting the incoming blade. His sword scrapped along mine in a shower of blue-white sparks which made me flinch as they flew up. I aimed the gun at his face and the Erlking's eyes flickered and he threw himself back without any hesitation, moving so quickly that my two shoots missed.

Herne flipped over in mid-air, coming down in a crouch and leaping to his feet in one smooth, practiced motion. I saw that one of the one bullets had left a bloody scorch mark on his chin. Herne's grin was even wider than before, as he touched his left gloved hand to his chin. “Thou hast drawn first, second, and third blood. I had doubted thou would be able to provide me with a worthy fight. I see that I was mistaken.”

I didn't say anything, just shot at him but he blurred quickly to the left and I missed again. I had five more bullets left in the magazine. I doubted he would give me the opportunity to reload. So I shot where I thought he would be.

Nothing. Herne was moving too damned fast.

“John!”

I jerked to the left, startled by Harry's shout. Fortunately, I had moved enough to avoid getting hit with a green arrow which whispered past my shoulder. It had been nearly inaudible. I tracked the flight path back to Herne. He was nearly hidden by the shadow of large beech tree.

“I can shoot as well,” Herne said in amusement, taking a step out of the shadow. He had grabbed his bow and drawn from his quiver so quickly that I hadn't seen it. He smirked at me, and reloaded in a slow, mocking gesture. His laugh was a dark rolling rumble which chilled me. 

And yet... I wanted to laugh too. The heat of the mantle's power within surged with fierce joy at the fight and I grinned widely at Herne. Briefly I let the power run rampant, but then I forced myself to focus. 

Instantly, Herne sent a series of arrows at me. I retreated and dodged the assault, using the sword to cut the missiles out of the air or deflect them away before they hit me. Shoots of arrows embedded into the ground around me, leaving me semi-encircled with broken and buried shafts.

I only missed once. But one arrow was all it took to get past my defenses.

“John!” “Boss!” “Mr. Marcone!”

The spike of fire that flared from my left upper leg was all I felt of the arrow sinking into the thick muscle of my thigh. I didn't feel it much, with the adrenaline pumping through me and blunting the pain. I reacted at once, emptying out the remaining ammunition at Herne before dropping the gun and grasping the shaft with my left hand. I used the sword in my right to cut most of the shaft away, leaving only a stub behind. I knew I couldn't pull it out. The arrow heads were barbed, but I also couldn't fight with nearly a foot of wood sticking from my leg. 

I needed to get back on my feet as fast as possible.

Herne rushed me again. I struggled to get on my feet to meet him with the sword. I was out of bullets. He was out of arrows. The fight came down to our bodies, swords and minds.

At first, I barely kept up with the fury of swipes and stabs from the Summer sword.

Then after nearly ten seconds, the mantle's power surged within me again, and it felt like an internal switch had flipped. Instead of barely surviving, it felt like I had finally figured out the pattern of Herne's attacks and I was able to go on the offensive. 

At once the fight was transformed, it felt less like a battle and more like a dance. We circled, exchanged hits, gave and took ground with our feet sure and steady over the uneven dirt, even if my steps left droplets of blood in my wake. Sparks flew occasionally from the meeting of the blades, illuminating the space between us in a shower of mostly blue-white light, and rarely in green, adding surprising beauty to the moment.

For several minutes I stayed in that place of balance, and I laughed as I moved, feeling more alive with every second I survived. As we fought and danced our way thorough the field, Herne's green-gold eyes glittered with equally fierce joy.

Then the pace of the fight shifted again and Herne moved faster than ever. Pressing forwards, throwing me out of our balance. I just barely staying ahead of being sliced apart.

Our fight continued for what felt like a day, although it was closer to ten minutes.

I was bleeding from several minor cuts. Blood slicked my right hand from a long, deep cut in my arm which went from my forearm to wrist. Luckily hadn't cut any tendons so I was still able to use my hand. My left wrist ached from a particularly vicious blow. I suspected it was broken or at least fractured since I could still move my fingers. I was breathing hard, and I knew I was coming to the end of my magically enhanced endurance. Maybe if I hadn't spent the last 60 hours fighting monsters and running on so little sleep I would have been able to put of more of a fight. 

Yet the end result would still be the same. The Summer King was supposed to win.

I was too slow moving out of the way of a kick to my left knee, and the arrow injured leg buckled under my weight, sending me crashing face first to the ground. My heart was pounding away like a jackhammer. I tried to rolled away from Herne, but I was too slow and had grown too weak to get out of the way in time. On my back, I made the split second choice to meet Herne's blow instead of trying to avoid it. 

But when I met the blow I lost my grip on the Winter King's sword.

The smash on metal on metal was still reverberating in my ears, even as my hands closed on empty air. With a sinking realization I saw from the corner of my right eye that the sword had landed blade first into the ground, easy to grab, but too far out of my reach. 

I wouldn't be able to move fast enough with my injuries to get to it in time and Herne was too close. 

For once, Herne's grin was gone as he solemnly raised his sword to strike me dead.

“No!” The angry bellows from the chariot sounded like both Hendricks and Harry. 

But I was already moving. Faster than I had ever moved before, driven by both desperation and the Winter King's magic, I pulled out one of my combat knifes and caught the Summer King's sword. The metal of the Herne's blade sank into the carbonized steel nearly cutting the knife in half, but the blow stopped when it was buried halfway into the hilt.

“Why does thee continue to fight when thy is outmatched?” Herne asked flatly, as he loomed over me. He kept a monstrous pressure on his sword, and my right arm shook from the effort of holding him back. “I am the fated winner and thee is the loser.”

I bared my teeth at him. “Not without a fight,” I said around gulps for air. “Or as my friend would doubtlessly quote at me: _Do not go gentle into that good night_.”

“ _Rage, rage against the dying of the light_ ,” Herne quoted in return. His smile was full of approval. “Kringle hast chosen most wisely.”

I waited to see what he would do, preparing myself to react.

“I have bested thee in combat, thine ground is mine. Dost thee accept thy loss?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, belatedly remembering the ritual words I was supposed to say at this point. “I, the Winter King, surrender to you, Summer King. The territory of the Southern Hemisphere is yours.”

“I accept thine surrender,” Herne said, as he finally, finally, pulled back his sword and out of my knife's blade. He sheathed the weapon into its green leather scabbard, gave me a final acknowledging nod before turning and walking away without looking back. 

I sank back against the ground, disbelieving I had managed to survive against such creature and trying desperately to catch my breath. Then I started laughing.

*-*-*-*

I was still laughing as I lay on the ground, my head resting on the winter dried browned grass when Hendricks reached me. I grinned at him. “I'm not dead, I think that's the best we can hope for.”

Getting sworn at by Hendricks is always an interesting experience. The man never used conventional swear words, he instead chose to insult me (and my lack of intelligence and death-wish tendencies, according to him) with words that would make an English professor proud and make the most of us reach for a dictionary. 

Gard and Harry arrived nearly as quickly.

“I thought you were dead,” Harry said, as Hendricks reached out a hand, grabbing my right arm and neatly avoiding my cuts, to leverage me to my feet.

I wiped away at the spill of blood dripping along my neck and winced at the sting from my neck and my hand. “So did I,” I admitted wearily to Harry. I winced again as Hendricks prodded my left wrist, which throbbed sharply, reminding me that it was probably broken, although I was holding out hope that it was only a bad sprain. I have found that broken bones always received too much attention, both from the press and from law enforcement. 

“It's sprained,” Hendricks said. 

“Good.” Then it would probably be healed before the benefits of mantle's power ended.

Hendricks grunted in irritation. Then he gently rotated my hands so he could scowl down the various nicks and minor burns I had picked up during the fight. His scowl deepened at the sight of the deep slice in my right forearm which had stopped dripping blood and was starting to scab over.

Gard picked up the Winter King's sword from the dirt, and wiped at the blade on her shirt's sleeve before returning it to the scabbard on my hip, knowing I couldn't so it myself. Hendricks began rubbing vigorously at my wounds with an alcohol wipe, and I doubted I would get my hijacked hands back until he was done. I winced again as everything started throbbing now that adrenaline was fading away.

I nodded my thanks to Gard before I said, “Ms. Gard, I'm afraid you'll have to drive the chariot back to Chicago.” 

“Of course, Mr. Marcone,” Gard said, and turned on a dime to get back to the chariot.

Hendricks was smearing my various injuries with antiseptic ointment before wrapping my hands with a clean bandage he fished out of a pocket of his tactical vest.

“I got to get the arrow out too,” Hendricks said, as soon as my hands looked like a mummy's.

“That's going to need a doctor,” Harry said, looking down to the neatly cut end of the arrow shaft. Now that I wasn't in the middle of fight I was feeling it more. And I suspected the arrowhead had hit bone. “I know a guy.”

“I have my own doctors, Mr. Dresden,” I said testily. I sighed and said to Hendricks. “Just cut it out. I still have the mantle for the next few hours, I might as well take advantage of the accelerated healing while I can.”

Another power of the mantle but one which I had been told about and one which I was very grateful to have.


	5. Chapter 5

Getting back to Chicago didn't take very long. Gard drove the chariot, controlling the four elk with her usual confidence. She softly hummed Wagner to herself. She even managed to drive them forward at an even faster pace than we had left, and we returned to my city in less than an hour after my fight with the Summer King. Dawn was about three hours away.

Gard landed the chariot neatly on the rooftop on the extra space on helicopter's landing pad that wasn't being occupied by the helicopter, using only the city's ambient lights to guide her. Once, I would have considered owning a penthouse with a landing pad to be entirely too ostentatious and conspicuous, for my tastes but that was before meeting Harry Dresden and being irrevocably introduced to the world of magical, its many dangers and its rules. I used to sleep in various locations, changing my residence with frequency, trying to keep from being pinned down by my rivals or simply to keep from tempting any subordinates looking for a sudden promotion as in my business this was considered an appropriate way to advance through the ranks. But I had been told by Gard that if I wished to develop magical defenses then I need pick a more permanent location. I needed a place I would start to think of as 'home' in order to develop a threshold. And with a threshold she could use it as the groundwork for more intricate and powerful shields.

Which is why the penthouse came into existence. 

The building I had chosen was one which was as far from any residential areas as I could find. It wasn't the tallest building I owned, although it was easily in the top three. I had taken the top three floors, which used to be offices and converted them into living quarters and defensive fortress – against mundane and magical attacks – all in one. I had told Gard to return here, as opposed to going back to the ice rink, or any other location I owned because of the simple fact that I needed that home ground advantage. 

As soon as the elk stopped moving, I turned to Harry who was standing at Gard's side while Hendricks had remained with me in the back. 

“Knight Dresden of the Winter Court, you are invited to stay as a guest in my home for the duration of your current stay in Chicago,” I said formally. 

Harry turned sharply to me. His dark eyes narrowed briefly and after a moment he huffed out an amused breath, clearly seeing what I doing. “I accept your invitation of hospitality, John,” Harry said, a corner of his mouth quirked up. 

Most of tension, which had become more and more obvious as we'd approached our home-base, leeched out of Hendricks' body. Gard shot me a slight but approving nod.

Harry's acceptance of my hospitality was the primary reason I wanted to return here. Although, letting him learn about the location of my primary residence was a calculated risk, the protection I was get from playing host to the Winter Knight outweighed any danger. In the briefings I've gotten on the Knights of the Sidhe Courts over the years, one of the point which had been emphasized had been how the Knight had to bow to certain fae rules of behavior even though he was mortal. As Harry's host I was protected from attack at his hands even after the fourth sunrise broke and the power of the Winter King returned to Kringle. Tactically, I would have preferred to have sent Harry away (my personal feelings were irrelevant), but he was suppose to stay near me. Also, I had been told by the Leanansidhe, that he would be the one to carry the Winter King's sword back to the Winter Court. And... the idea of giving up the sword before the agreed to deadline filled me with unease and denial, like I was agreeing to cut off my arm.

I stepped out of the chariot on cautious legs, wary of my injuries. Hendricks had managed to cut the arrow free but now I had a two inch slit in my thigh held together by his deft stitches. Fortunately, the accelerated healing I was relying on was still working so I was able to walk, albeit with a slight limp. I didn't need help to get to the double-doors and the security features. Behind me, I heard Gard tell Harry to wait. 

At the doors, I pressed my hand against the palm reader controlling the electrical lock. The sensors took a couple of seconds longer than usual to read my palm but the doors unlocked without any problems. A series of runes which Gard had inscribed along the door frame began to glow. After a moment the spell sensed my presence and the runes went dark again. As soon as the magical defenses went down I opened the doors, trying to do so beforehand would have resulted in a high voltage electrical shock.

The motion sensitive lights turned on as soon as I crossed the threshold, double checking that no fragile electronics had been left out which could end up destroyed by the presence of a magus of Harry's caliber. The large living room which was mostly empty space but for a few couches and a coffee table was perfectly clear. Behind me, Hendricks stumbled out over the frame of the double-doors. Luckily, he was caught by Gard before he fell on his face. 

“Mr. Hendricks?” I asked, concerned. Worry made my heart beating rapidly.

Maybe it was the artificial lights, but his face was more shadowed than usual, his skin was edging towards gray with weariness. Whatever fumes he'd been running on for the last few hours had finally run out.

“Just tired, boss,” he sighed heavily. To my ear he sounded frustrated with his own weaknesses. I raised my hand to his shoulder, giving him a squeeze and a silent reassuring look. It was time he went off duty. His shift was done. 

“We're going straight to bed,” Gard said firmly.

Hendricks shook his head in denial, shooting Harry a look that spoke clearly. He didn't want to leave me without back-up with the wizard.

Harry, who had been staying behind us, caught the glance and snorted derisively. “Damn it, Hendricks, I won't do anything to your boss. Even if I wanted to, I can't.”

Hendricks didn't look reassured and I knew that his reactions had nothing to do with either Harry or Hendricks' confidence in my abilities. No, it was something else. Something I had seen before from him, especially after my kidnapping. For over 60 hours, Hendricks had been moving from fight to fight to fight and being on constant battle alert was something that lingered. His danger senses were on a hair-trigger. Even as tired as he was I doubted he would get more than a handful of hours of sleep for the night, or the foreseeable week. Also I fully expected him to constantly check up on me even when it wasn't necessary. I doubted I would be any better.

“Go get some sleep, I'm sure that Mr. Dresden will remain civil,” I said reassuringly, nodding to Gard who I knew was my best ally in convincing my stubborn friend to get some rest. She nodded back and hauled Hendricks away to their bedroom before he could do more than mutter unhappily. If he tried to dig in his heels at any point Gard's strength was such that she just overpowered his attempt to halt their forward movement. 

I turned to Harry, who looked uneasy, as if he just realized that he was being left alone with me and therefore had no one to run interference between us. He looked conflicted whether or not that was something he should be concerned about. 

“I will remain civil, as well, Mr. Dresden,” I chuckled, unable to resist my amusement at his dismayed expression and unable help myself in expressing it. I didn't know whether to blame the mantle's effects on my personality or my own sense of humor at enjoying his discomfort. The delineation line had blurred too much. All I felt was growing sense of the ridiculous over the situation and my own desire to laugh at it.

Harry shot me an insulted glance. A couple of the flood lights in the recessed fixtures burned out in soft pops, darkening the room. Harry winced. I sighed and made a mental note to get the entire electrical system checked out by a trusted contractor at some point the next day. Harry's habit of burning down buildings, however much of a long running joke, was also entirely too real.

“Well, come on Mr. Dresden,” I said, gestured for him to follow. I led the way downstairs. While I was also feeling rather tired I had recovered some of my energy over the last hour. I knew it wouldn't last past the fourth dawn so I might as well take advantage of it while it lasted. 

As soon as I showed him the kitchen and the guest room he could use I abandoned Harry to his own devices as I was confident he wouldn't be able to do anything more damaging than affecting the penthouse's electrical system. I had spent entirely too long wearing my current set of clothing and body armor. The thoughts of my shower were rather all consuming, even above my interest in the wizard.

*-*-*-*

I looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps coming up from the stairwell. Harry came into view, carrying a dinner plate piled high with shortbread cookies in various flavors, a full glass of milk, and his staff.

Harry hesitated only briefly when he caught sight of me before walk toward where I sat. He said, “You know John, I think I've spent more time with you over the last three days than all the time I have spent with you beforehand. Since the day we met. Combined.”

“Milk and cookies?” I asked archly, instead of responding to his statement, although it was an interesting and true observation. Harry has had such an impact on my life that it was surprising to consider how little time we had spent in each other's presence. Time spent in each other's thoughts did not count.

“For the last three days I've been craving the stuff for some reason,” Harry said his tone a touch sarcastic even as he shrugged. He sat down beside me on the couch. His hair was damp and the heat from his shower still radiated off him, making his cheeks flush pink. He still wore his leather coat, although he was also wearing the clean set of Hendricks' workout clothes which I'd offered him while his own clothes when through the laundry. They hung on him by a ridiculous amount, reminding me again of how thin he had become over the last two years. Harry's right knee bumped against mine and remained there. He let out a long sigh, reacting as if the touch was the final piece he needed to finally relax. I had remind myself more than once that I shouldn't read more into it. Harry had even let go of his carved staff, leaving it to rest on the arm of the couch although still within reach. “You're out of cookies by the way,” he said around a mouthful of cookie crumbs. He took a deep gulp of milk.

I laughed loudly, a rumbling cascade of amusement that didn't feel as strange as it should have. The laugh earned me a startled look from Harry and a not-at-all sotto voiced grumble of how that was just freaky.

“I think I can manage to find more, although I can't say how well Hendricks will respond when he learns you've demolished his stash,” I said, grinning despite myself. 

Harry grunted around another mouthful of cookie as I turned back to look out the windows. The night was still dark and I could see Venus glowing bright from where it had climbed high in the sky, even through my city's output of light pollution. I had angled the couch so that it faced eastern wide-paned, bullet-resistant windows so that I would be able to see the fourth dawn begin. It was currently little less than an hour away. I could have chosen to ignore it all and just gone to sleep, but the mantle's power had been a part of me for these few days that it felt like I had to, no, _needed_ to face the upcoming loss with open eyes.

And, while I had been informed of the fact that I wouldn't experience any side-effects when the power of the Winter King's returned to its rightful bearer I was reluctant to take this blanket reassurance without question, especially considering how much information had been missing from Vadderung's initial debriefing. I was unwilling to rely solely on his word, so should anything run amiss, I much rather be alert and awake to minimize any fallout.

In preparation I had taken my shower, changed into a casual set of clean clothes before returning to the top floor. I had left the red fur coat hanging from a coat rack in my bedroom as it had first been my overcoat. I doubted I would need to return it. The only two items which I still wore from the last few days was the empty silver chain and Winter King's sword in its scabbard at my hip, primary because I felt disturbingly incomplete without the blade. I hoped that particular dependency ended when the mantle's power faded away.

If it didn't.... well, that was there were actions I would need to take, but those plans would be contingent on the results of the upcoming dawn.

“So?” Harry prompted after swallowing his mouthful of cookies and milk. He looked at me with an expectant expression, clearly still wanting me to respond to his statement

“Hmm,” I said noncommittally, although I couldn't help smiling at him. I was in too good of a mood to question where Harry was going with this line of conversation. I was clean, warm, and I had eaten something more satisfying than energy bars or military MREs. And there was also the affects of mantle's power which was still thrumming within me. Not only was it raising my mood but it was also keeping me from feeling too exhausted and blunting my aches and pains so much so that I hadn't even needed to take any painkillers. Neither had I bothered to rebandage my hands as the minor injuries had healed and the worst had turned into angry red scars adding to my collection. Even the sprain was nothing more than a few faint twinges whenever I forgot myself and put too much pressure on my wrist. I have said before that I didn't need enjoyment to thrive, seeking it is not a driving force in my life, but I could say with sincerity that I was enjoying the moment. For however briefly it lasted. “Any particular reason you have been thinking on this line of thought?”

“It just struck me,” Harry said, as he fiddled with a shortbread cookie, one which had been dipped in white chocolate, from the plate resting on his lap. His fingers were quickly becoming sticky with chocolate.

I tried not to be distracted by the thoughts of licking his fingers clean. Instead, I arched my eyebrows at him, even as I wondered where he was going with this. For all that the man wore his heart on his sleeve for anyone with eyes to see what he felt, sometimes he became downright inscrutable, at the most inconvenient times too.

Harry's dark eyes narrowed. Abruptly, he asked, “Why did you put me under your protection? Why would you bother to warn off the Erlking?”

“Isn't it obvious?” I asked quietly. I was surprised by the question as it was hardly the first I had acted to save his life with no immediate and discernible benefit to me.

“No, not really,” he said. I couldn't tell if he was merely being deliberatly obstuse or lying to himself. “The 72 hours were just about up. You didn't exactly need me anymore.” He looked away to the night sky.

I considered his profile. The scars bisecting the area around his eye, and chin, the hollowness under his cheeks, and the lines around his mouth that had nothing to do with laugh lines. Maybe it was the mantle's effects, maybe it was simply that my typical responses to this man were very atypical to how I reacted to everyone else (I allowed no one to insult me like he did and there was certainly no other man who fascinated me as deeply), but compassion stirred within me. “I've never wanted you dead, Mr. Dresden. Even before my... regards for you changed.”

Harry didn't react in surprise, instead he looked over at me with a steadiness which was more disconcerting than his outrage or another other reaction I had thought he would have.

“Of course, whenever you seek to 'take me down',” I said warningly, turning my voice as cold as I could make it. It not as good as an attempt as I had made in the past. It was rather difficult to sound threatening when all I wanted to do was laugh. “Do not expect me to treat you as anything less than a threat.”

“And I didn't go after you, you would never strike against me, would you, John?” Harry asked, his eyes dark and opaque. “No matter how much I got in your way or interfered with your plans or threatened you.”

I thought about my reponse before I inclined my head in silent agreement with his assessment. This time I was the one to look away as his breath stutted out. Harry clearly hadn't expected me to admit to it. 

But it had always been true even before my feelings for him had changed. I considered him to be too important to safeguarding my city. His value as a deterrent to others in the magical community has been especially highlighted during the time of his 'death'. The loss of a wizard with his reputation had turned Chicago into a hunting ground for monsters until they had been forcibly taught otherwise. And while I and my ally, Lara Raith, had managed to regain control of Chicago, when the news of that Harry Dresden had survived had broken for all to know, there had been a statistically significant decrease in attacks by the formor and other predatory beings.

I heard Harry chewed on another cookie. He didn't say another word until after he had finished his mouthful and drank down more of the milk.

“If how you feel is real... why didn't you help me when I came to you?” Harry asked, his voice raising in anger. He shook his head and forced himself to say in quieter voice. “I came to you for help and you refused.”

“Because we are not friends, Mr. Dresden. Neither are we allies,” I said sharply. “I would not risk my people's health and lives purely on your request without sufficient reason which you didn't provide. You can't expect to gain any benefit from this information, not now and certainly not in the future.”

Harry was quiet for a long moment before he said, “But if I asked you, just you, for something, for a favor...”

I eyed him, debated how much to admit before realizing that the man was intelligent enough to arrive at the right conclusion without me, so I might as well own up to it. I matched his tone as I said softly, “I would listen to you before I made my decision.”

Realization flooded Harry's face. “Like you always have,” Harry mumbled.

“Yes.” And I knew he finally understood how rare it was for me to do such a thing.

“Oh.” Then he added, so softly that I was certain I never meant to hear it, “Stars and stones, have I always been this blind?”

I waited a moment but he didn't say another word, distracted as he was by whatever revelation he was processing. I left him to it, turning back to watch the lightening sky. Before too long the only sounds I heard from him was the sounds of chewing as Harry went back to eating his pilfered cookies.

*-*-*-*

It wasn't much longer before dawn broke.

The first rays of sunlight were only beginning to peek over the cityscape when I shuddered, feeling the Winter King's power begin to flow away from my extremities and concentrating once again to a single spot in my chest. The loss of power left my limbs feeling hollowed out and cold even in the climate controlled air of my penthouse. 

“John?” Harry asked in concern. 

I gritted my teeth, holding back the scream which scrapped at my throat as my temples throbbed as something in my mind broke away. Then all at once, as suddenly as it had first appeared within me, the Winter King's mantle vanished from within me. 

Out of thin air appeared the snowflake white gemstone, once again attached to the silver chain again. It glittered as the sunlight struck it, throwing off rainbows in every direction.

I was hardly impressed. Instead I wondered if the color leeching away from my vision was due to the loss of the power or if it was merely returning to normal and whether it had been another unmentioned side-effect of the mantle which made everything look so vibrant and alive. I barely had to chance to think on it when I was hit with what felt like an entire week's worth of sleep debt. The exhaustion I should have been feeling due to the last three days came onto me all at once. I groaned as my muscles turned to water, slipping just out of my autonomous control.

Beside me, Harry grunted in surprise and quickly caught me under the shoulder before I pitched forward off the couch and onto the floor. The entire room spun as he jerked me back and I sagged against him. Suddenly, I wanted to sleep for a month... or a year, either sounded very appealing. It felt like I had gone from being sober to blackout drunk, only instead of being inebriated on alcohol, I was soused on exhaustion.

If Mr. Hendricks had felt even half of this level of fatigue and had kept _going_ over the last three days... well, I was impressed and certain that I owned the man a vacation and a substantive bonus.

“John?” Harry asked in concern, then for some reason he inhaled sharply and started swearing under his breath. His grip on my arm tightened and he pulled me closer to him.

The flare of pain from the pressure of his hand made I blinked rapidly and try to focus on sitting up straight. I barely managed it. Still when I managed to shift my attention on Harry, I saw that he was staring at me with that feral light of hunger in his eyes. 

I realized, with a sinking feeling, that the loss of the Winter King's mantle was leaving me vastly more vulnerable than I had factored to be a risk because, without the power on hand to sooth the savagery of the Knight's mantle, Harry was now feeling the full impact.

Essentially, I had turned myself into wounded prey before a predator.

I dropped my hand to hilt of the Winter King's sword even as I mentally swore at myself for leaving my handgun back in my bedroom. I was rarely so careless. It was a very good thing that I had thought to secure Harry's good behavior through Unseelie Accord rules because I doubted I would be able to mount any kind of defense against him without it. 

Yet, before I could remind Harry of the rules of guest and host, he was moving. 

Of the many things that I have dealt with in my life there have been few things which have truly taken me aback. Maybe because my personality is such that I expect the worst out of every situation and so I tried to plan accordingly, but the last thing I expected Harry Dresden to do was lean over a plant one on me.

And no, not a punch. Actually, that wouldn't have even made me blink.

A kiss from him, on the other hand, succeeded in freezing me in place. For too long I was absolutely lost on how to react. He shoved me back into the cushions. It wasn't until he bit at my mouth hard enough for my bottom lip to bleed that I was hit with the realization that I had no idea exactly how much of Harry's action was based solely on his own desires or it was solely due to the influence of the Winter Knight's mantle. That horrifying thought kept me from taking advantage of the situation and responding to his fervor with my own. Instead, I focused all my lingering strength shoved Harry back. 

I didn't even succeeded in rocking him away, but my actions did manage to part us enough to break the kiss. It also gave me the space I need to pull out the sword and press the blade against his neck. He stilled although his eyes didn't look completely sane. I narrowed my eyes. “Gain control of yourself, Harry,” I ordered crisply, hoping the shock of hearing me use his given name for the first time in years would be enough to startle him out of mindset of the Winter Knight. If not, I would use the sword.

Fortunately my gambit worked.

Harry blinked rapidly, and a beat later he widened the space between us until he was on the opposite side of the couch from where I sat. 

“Hell's bells, Marcone, sorry. I--” He swallowed down as he dropped his gaze to the floor, looking away from me. Then he shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. “Well, I certainly didn't see that coming,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He voice sounded shocked.

Clearly, he had expected the kiss as much as I had. Which is to say, not at all. 

I gave him a moment to get a hold of himself before I admitted, “I wouldn't be opposed to doing that again. Properly.” I couldn't pinpoint whether I was saying these things due to a lingering effect of the mantle's power or simply because I wanted to see where this would go. After all I had not thought that he would be the one to make the first move. And while I was confident in my own self-control I would have laid down a bet that I would be the one to be tempted enough to act.

Harry shot me a startled look. 

“Although, I would appreciate it with less Winter Knight getting in the way,” I added wryly. I watched him with cautious eyes as I had new respect for how devastating the influence of a mantle could be upon a bearer I wasn't willing to let my guard down with him just yet.

The corners of his mouth quirked up and Harry relaxed, as he realized I wasn't angry at him for a kiss taken without my expressed consent. 

Speaking of, my mouth still burned with echoes of his mouth. I licked my lips chasing the lingering taste of milk, cookies and blood. My only true protest over the entire situation was my uncertainty of how much it was based on what he wanted and not the Winter Knight's sexual hunger. I doubted that even Harry couldn't be a hundred percent certain of his actions, considering how long he had been carrying that mantle. I had the Winter King's power for only three days and even I couldn't say in the end how much of it was purely me or how much was due to the mantle. He had been a carrier to fae power for years.

Harry's attention was caught by my mouth. He added hoarsely, “You and me both.” He swallowed again. “I think I think I better head out now, before I do something I haven't exactly thought through.”

Intrigued, I arched my eyebrows and he flushed red. 

Still, as fascinated as I was to hear more on that topic, I agreed that it was better that we had some distance between us. He wasn't the only one that needed to think without the lingering influence of fae magic. 

I pulled the silver chain and the dangling jewel over my head and then passed on the sword. 

I managed to stay on my feet long enough to let him past Gard's defenses and too see him vanish into the NeverNever with the elk before the adrenaline rush faded away and I crashed hard. I barely made it back to couch in time.

*-*-*-*

I woke up all at once. I was startled to find myself on the upstairs couch instead of laying on my bed. For a disconcerting moment, I wondered why I felt so different, and I didn't mean the aches and pains or that I felt like I could very easily just go back to sleep. 

To me it felt felt like gravity had grown stronger as I'd slept. It didn't take me very long to realized that I was simply feeling the lack of the mantle's power within me. It made me grimace. I had grown far too used to getting a magical boost in energy and strength. And now with it gone I was too aware of my own mortal limitations. For one, it too far more effort than I'd like for me to sit up, get to my feet and stagger to my bedroom. However, I was grateful than I cared to admit that at least I no longer felt incomplete, like I was missing a limb, without the Winter King's sword at my side. 

I had only made it through my bedroom door when the memory of Harry Dresden kissing me returned. I honestly would have considered another vivid dream pulled out of my fantasies by my subconscious if my lip didn't sting when I touched it. Well... that was something I certainly hadn't expected as a potential outcome to these last few days.

I told myself that it would not change anything. Harry's current loyalties were bound to the Queen of the Winter Fae Court. I couldn't forget this important fact no matter how I wished the situation to be otherwise. 

I shook my head and forced the thoughts away. I was still too muddle-headed from weariness to start forming plans. I would need a clearer head and more rest before that.

I had just climbed into my bed when I noticed a folded piece of white paper on the night stand. I could only think of one recent visitor who would have dared to invade my bedroom to leave me a note. I sighed in exasperation and picked it up, unfolding it.

My low chuckles, for once, had nothing to do with the influence of the Winter King's power on my personality. I was genuinely amused. Instead, I lay the blame for my reaction solely on Harry Dresden's juvenile sense of humor.

For on the note he had written out three columns with the titles: Naughty, Nice and Annoyingly ~~Handso~~ Honorable Criminal Scumbags.

I'm sure you can guess on which column you could find my name.

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very tempted to call this fic: Harry Makes Terrible Christmas Jokes , or My Headcanons Let Me Show Them. I have some very strong suspicions over what Vadderung's interest in Marcone and that inspired this adventure story. And of course I couldn't resist Marcone/Dresden.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Errantry for the lovely art pieces, although now I desperately want a snowflake necklace like that one.
> 
> Also the mods of SmallFandomBigBang for making it such a smooth process that a noob at Big Bangs like me felt comfortable and not panicky about screwing up.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Kinder Side of Winter: Accompanying Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1478893) by [Errantry (Hecateae)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecateae/pseuds/Errantry)




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